SEVERAL POEMS Compiled with great variety of Wit and Learning, full of Delight; Wherein especially is contained a complete Discourse, and Description of The Four 

ELEMENTS  
CONSTITUTIONS,  
AGES of Man,  
SEASONS of the Yea●   Together with an exact Epitome of the three first Monarchies Viz. The 

ASSYRIAN,  
PERSIAN,  
GRECIAN.    
And beginning of the Roman Commonwealth to the end of their last King: With divers other pleasant & serious Poems,  
By a Gentlewoman in New-England.  
The second Edition, Corrected by the Author, and enlarged by an Addition of several other Poems found amongst her Papers after her Death.  
Boston, Printed by John Foster, 1678.   

Kind Reader:  
HAd I opportunity but to borrow some of the Author's wit, 'tis possible I might so trim this curious work with such acquaint expressions, as that the Preface might bespeak thy further Perusal; but I fear 'twill be a shame for a Man that can speak so little, To be seen in the title page of this Woman's Book, lest by comparing the one with the other, the Reader ●hould pass his sentence that it is the gift of wom●n not only to speak most but to speak best; I shall leave therefore to commend that, which with any ingenious Reader will too much commend the Author, unless men turn more peevish than women, to envy the excellency of the inferior Sex. I doubt not but the Reader will quickly find more than I can say, and the worst effect of his reading will be unbelief, which will make him question whether it be a woman's work, and ask, Is is possible? If any do, take this as an answer from him that dares avow it; It is the Work of a Woman, honoured, and esteemed where she lives, for her gracious demeanour, her eminent parts, her pious conversation, her courteous disposition, her exact diligence in her place, and discreet managing of her Family occasions, and more than so, these Poems are the fruit but of some few hours, curtailed from her sleep and other refreshments. I dare add little lest I keep thee too long; if thou wilt not believe the worth of these things (in their kind) when a man says it, yet believe it from a woman when thou seest it. This only I shall annex, I fear the displeasure of no person in the publishing of these Poems but the Author, without whose knowledge, and contrary to her expectation, I have presumed to bring to public view, what she resolved in such a manner should never see the Sun; but I found that divers had gotten some scattered Papers, affected them well, were likely to have sent forth broken pieces, to the Author's prejudice, which I thought to prevent, as well as to pleasure those that earnestly desired the view of the whole.   

MErcury showed Apollo, Bartas Book,  
Minerva this and wished him well to look,  
And tell uprightly, which did which excel,  
He viewed and viewed, and vowed he could not tell.  
They bid him Hemisphere his mouldy nose,  
With's cracked leering glasses, for it would pose  
The best brains he had in's old pudding-pan,  
Sex weighed, which best the Woman, or the Man?  
He peered, and poured, & glared, & said for wore,  
I'm even as wise now, as I was before:  
They both began laugh, and said, it was no marvel  
The Authoress was a right Du Bartas Girl.  
Good sooth quoth the old Don, tell ye me so,  
I muse whither at length these Girls will go;  
It half revives my chill frost-bitten blood,  
To see a Woman once, do aught that's good;  
And chode by Chaucer's Boots, and Homer's Furs,  
Let Men look to't, lest Women wear the Spurs:  
N. Ward.   

To my dear Sister, the Author of these Poems.  
THough most that know me, dare (I think) affirm  
I ne'er was born to do a Poet harm,  
Yet when I read your pleasant witty strains,  
It wrought so strongly on my addle brains;  
That though my verse be not so finely spun,  
And so (like yours) cannot so neatly run,  
Yet am I willing, with upright intent,  
To show my love without a compliment.  
There needs no painting to tha●●●mely face,  
That in its native beauty hath such grace;  
What I (poor silly I) prefix therefore,  
Can but do this, make yours admired the more,  
And if but only this, I do attain  
Content, that my disgrace may be your gain.  
If women, I with women may compare,  
Your works are solid, others weak as Air;  
Some Books of Women I have heard of late,  
Perused some, so witless, intricate,  
So void of sense, and truth, as if to err  
Were only wished (acting above their sphere)  
And all to get, what (silly Souls) they lack,  
Esteem to be the wisest of the pack;  
Though (for your sake) to some this be permitted,  
To print yet wish I many better witted;  
Their vanity make this to be enquired,  
If Women are with wit and sense inspired:  
Yet when your Works shall come to public view,  
'Twill be affirmed, 'twill be confirmed by you:  
And I▪ when seriously I had revolved  
What you had done I presently resolved,  
Theirs was the Persons, not the Sexes failing,  
And therefore did be-speak a modest vailing.  
You have acutely in Eliza's ditty,  
Acquitted Women, else I might with pity,  
Have wished them all to women's Works to look,  
And never more to meddle with their book.  
What you have done, the Sun shall witness bear,  
That for a woman Work 'tis very rare;  
And if the Nine, vouchsafe the Tenth a place,  
I think they rightly may yield you that grace.  
But lest I should exceed, and too much love,  
Should too too much endeared affection move,  
To superadde in praises, I shall cease,  
Lest while I please myself I should displease  
The longing Reader, who may chance complain,  
And so requite my love with deep disdain;  
That I your silly Servant, stand i'th' Porch,  
Lighting your Sun-light, with my blinking Torch;  
Hindering his minds content, his sweet repose,  
Which your delightful Poems do disclose  
When once the Caskets oped, yet to you  
Let this be added, then I'll bid adieu,  
If you shall think, it will be to your shame  
To be in print, than I must bear the blame:  
If't be a fault, 'tis mine, 'tis shame that might  
Deny so fair an Infant of its right,  
To look abroad; I know your modest mind,  
How you will blush complain, 'tis too unkind:  
To force a woman's birth provoke her pain,  
Expose her labours to the World's disdain.  
I know you I say, you do defy that mint,  
That stamped you thus to be a fool in print.  
'Tis true it doth not now so neatly stand,  
As if 'twere polished with your own sweet hand;  
'Tis not so richly decked, so trimly tired,  
Yet it is such as justly is admired.  
If it be folly, 'tis of both, or neither,  
Both you and I, we'll both be fo●●s together;  
And he that says, 'tis foolish, 〈◊〉 my word  
May sway) by my consent shall make the third,  
I dare outface the world's disdain for both,  
If you alone profess you are not wroth;  
Yet if you are, a Woman's wrath is little,  
When thousands else admire you in each Tittle.  
● W.   

Upon the Author; by a known Friend.  
NOw I believe Tradition, which doth call  
The Muses, Virtues, Graces, Females all;  
Only they are not nine, eleven nor three;  
Our Auth ' r●ss proves them but one unity.  
Mankind take up some blushes on the score;  
Monopolise perfection no more;  
In your own Arts, confess yourselves outdone,  
The Moon hath totally eclipsed the Sun  
Not with her sable Mantle muffling him,  
But her bright silver makes his gol● lo●k aim:  
Just as his beams force our pa● lamps to wi●k,  
And earthly Fires, within their ashes shrink.  
B. W.   

I cannot wonder at Apollo now,  
That he with Female Laurel crowned his brow,  
That made him witty: had I leave to choose,  
My Verse should be a page unto your Muse  
C. B.   

In praise of the Author, Mistress Anne Bradstreet, Virtues true and lively Pattern, Wife of the Worshipful Simon Bradstreet Esq  
At present residing in the Occidental parts of the World in America, Alias NOU-ANGLIA.  
WHat golden splendent STAR is this so bright,  
One thousand Mile●●wice told, both day and night,  
(From th' Orient first sprung) now from the West  
That shines; swift-winged Phoebus, and the rest  
Of all Jove's fiery flames surmounting far  
As doth each Planet, every falling Star;  
By whose divine and lucid light most clear  
Natures dark secret mysteries appear;  
Heavens, Earth's, admired wonders, noble acts  
Of Kings and Princes most heroic facts,  
And what e'er else in darkness seemed to die,  
Revives all things so obvious now to th' eye,  
That he who these its glittering rays views o'er,  
Shall see what's done in all the world before.  
N. H.   

Upon the Author.  
'twere extreme folly should I dare attempt,  
To praise this Author's worth with compliment;  
None but herself must dare commend her parts,  
Whose sublime brain's the Synopsis of Arts.  
Nature and skill, here both in one agree,  
To frame this Masterpiece of Poetry:  
False Fame, belie their Sex no more, it can  
Surpass, or parallel, the best of Man.  
C. B.   

Another to Mrs. Anne Bradstreet, Author of this Poem.  
I'Ve read your Poem (Lady) and admire,  
Your Sex to such a pitch should e'er aspire;  
Go on to write, continue to relate,  
New Histories, of Monarchy and State:  
And what the Romans to their Poets gave,  
Be sure such honour, and esteem you'll have.  
H. S.   

An Anagram. Anna Bradestreate Deer neat An Bartas.  
So Bartas like thy fine spun Poems been,  
That Bartas name will prove an Epicene.   

Another. Anne Bradstreate Arts bred neat An.  
  

UPON Mrs. Anne Bradstreet Her Poems, etc.  

MADAM, twice through the Muse's Grove I walked,  
Under your blissful bowers, I shrouding there,  
It seemed with Nymphs of Helicon I talked.  
For there those sweet-liped Sisters sporting were,  
Apollo with his sacred Lute sat by,  
On high they made their heavenly Sonnets fly,  
Posies around they strowed, of sweetest Poesy.   

2  
Twice have I drunk the Nectar of your lines,  
Which high sublimed my mean born fantasy.  
Flushed with these streams of your Maronean wines  
Above myself rapt to an ecstasy:  
Methought I was upon mount Hiblas' top,  
There where I might those fragrant flowers lop,  
Whence did sweet odours flow, and honey spangles drop.   

3  
To Ven●s shrine no Altars raised are,  
Nor venomed shafts from painted quiver sly,  
Nor wanton Doves of Aphrodites Carr,  
Or fluttering there, nor here forlornly lie,  
Lorne Paramours, not chatting birds tell news  
How sage Apollo, Daphne hot pursues,  
Or stately Jove himself is wont to haunt the stews.   

4  
Nor barking Satyrs breath, nor driety clouds  
Exhaled from Styx, their dismal drops distil  
Within these Fairy, flowery fields, nor shrouds  
The screeching night Raven, with his shady quill:  
But Lyric strings here Orpheus nimbly hits,  
Orion on his saddled Dolphin sits,  
Chanting as every humour, age & season fits.   

5  
Here silver swans, with Nightingales set spells,  
Which sweetly charm the Traveller, and raise  
Earth's earthed Monarches, from their hidden Cells,  
And to appearance summons lapsed days,  
There heavenly air, becalms the swelling frays,  
And fury fell of Elements alleys.  
By paying every one due tribute of his praise.   

6  
This seemed the Scite of all those verdant vales,  
And purled springs, whereat the Nymphs do play,  
With lofty hills, where Poets rear their tales,  
To heavenly vaults, which heavenly sound repay  
By echoes sweet rebound, here Lady's kiss,  
Circling nor songs, nor dances circle miss;  
But whilst those Sirens sung, I sunk in sea of bliss.   

7  
Thus weltering in delight, my virgin mind  
Admits a rape; truth still lye● undiscried,  
It's singular, that plural seemed, I find,  
'Twas Fancies glass alone that multiplied;  
Nature with Art so closely did combine,  
I thought I saw the Muse's treble trine,  
Which proved your lonely Muse, superior to the nine.   

8  
Your only hand those Poesies did compose,  
Your head the source, whence all those springs did flow,  
Your voice, whence changes sweetest notes arose,  
Your feet that kept the dance alone, I trow:  
Then veil your bonnets, Poetasters all,  
Strike, lower amain and at these humbly fall,  
And deem yourselves advanced to be her Pedestal.   

9  
Should all with lowly Congees Laurels bring,  
Waste Flora's Magazine to find a wreath;  
Or Pineus Banks 'twere too mean offering,  
Your Muse a fairer Garland doth bequeath  
To guard your fairer front; here 'tis your name  
Shall stand immarbled; this your little frame  
Shall great Colossus be, to your eternal fame.   

I'll please myself, though I myself disgrace,  
What errors here be found, are in Erratas place.   
J. Rogers.   

To her most Honoured Father Thomas Dudley Esq these humbly presented.  

DEar Sir of late delighted with the sight 
T. D. On the four parts of the world.   
Of your four Sisters clothed in black and white,  
Of fairer Dames the Sun ne'er saw the face;  
Though made a pedestal for Adam's Race;  
Their worth so shines in those rich lines you show  
Their parallels to find I scarcely know  
To climb their Climes, I have nor strength nor skill  
To mount so high requires an eagle's quill;  
Yet view thereof did cause my thoughts to soar▪  
My lowly pen might wait upon those four  
I bring my four times four, now meanly clad  
To do their homage, unto yours, full glad:  
Who for their Age, their worth and quality  
Might seem of yours to claim precedency:  
But by my humble hand, thus rudely penned  
They are, your bounden handmaids to attend  
These same are they from whom we being have  
These are of all, the Life the Nurse, the Grave,  
These are the hot, the cold, the moist, the dry,  
That sink, that swim, that fill, that upwards fly,  
Of these consists our bodies, clothes and Food,  
The World, the useful hurtful, and the good,  
Sweet harmony they keep, yet jar oft times  
Their discord doth appear, by these har●h rhymes  
Yours did contest for wealth, for Ar●s for Age,  
My first do show their good, and then their rage.  
My other foures do intermixed tell  
Each others faults, and where themselves excel,  
How hot and dry contend with moist and cold,  
How Air and Earth no correspondence hold,  
And yet in equal tempers, how they agree  
How divers natures make one Unity  
Something of all (though mean) I did intent  
But feared you'd judge Du Bartas was my friend  
I honour him, but dare not wear his wealth  
My goods are true (though poor) I love no stealth  
But if I did I durst not send them you  
Who must reward a Thief, but with his due.  
I shall not need, mine innocence to clear  
These ragged lines, will do't, when they appear:  
On what they are, your mild aspect I crave  
Accept my best, my worst vouchsafe a Grave.   

From her that to yourself, more duty owes  
Then water in the boundess Ocean flows.   
March 20. 1642. ANNE BRADSTREET.   

THE PROLOGUE.  

1.  
TO sing of Wars, of Captains, and of Kings,  
Of Cities founded, Commonwealths begun,  
For my mean pen are too superior things:  
Or how they all, or each their dates have run  
Let Poets and Historians set these forth,  
My obscure Lines shall not so dim their worth.   

2.  
But when my wondering eyes and envious heart  
Great Bartas sugared lines, do but read o'er  
Fool I do grudge the Muses did not part  
'Twixt him and me that overfluent store,  
A Bartas can, do what a Bartas will  
But simple I according to my skill.   

3.  
From schoolboys tongue no empiric we expect  
Nor yet a sweet Consort from broken strings,  
Nor perfect beauty, where's a main defect:  
My foolish, broken blemished Muse so sings  
And this to mend, alas, no Art is able,  
'Cause nature, made it so irreparable.   

4.  
Nor can I, like that fluent sweet tongued Greek,  
Who lisped at first, in future times speak plain  
By Art he gladly found what he did seek  
A full requital of his, striving pain  
Art can do much, but this maxime's most sure  
A weak or wounded brain admits no cure.   

5.  
I am obnoxious to each carping tongue  
Who says my hand a needle better fits,  
A Poet's pen all scorn I should thus wrong,  
For such despite they cast on Female wits:  
If what I do prove well, it won't advance,  
They'll say it's stolen, or else it was by chance.   

6.  
But sure the Antique Greeks were far more mild  
Else of our Sex, why feigned they those Nine  
And poesy made, Calliopes own Child;  
So 'mongst the rest they placed the Arts Divine.  
But this weak knot, they will full soon untie,  
The Greeks did nought, but play the fools & lie.   

7.  
Let Greeks be Greeks, and women what they are  
Men have precedency and still excel,  
It is but vain unjustly to wage war;  
Men can do best, and women know it well  
Pre-eminence in all and each is yours;  
Yet grant some small acknowledgement of ours.   

8.  
And oh ye high flown quills that soar the Skies,  
And ever with your prey still catch your praise,  
If e'er you deign these lowly lines your eyes  
Give Thyme or Parsley wreath I ask no bays,  
This mean and unrefined ure of mine  
Will make you glistering gold, but more to shine:    

The Four Elements  
THe Fire, Air, Earth and water did contest  
Which was the strongest, noblest and the best,  
Who was of greatest use and might'est force;  
In placide Terms they thought now to discourse,  
That in due order each her turn should speak;  
But enmity this amity did break  
All would be chief, and all scorned to be under  
whence issued winds & rains, lightning & thunder  
The quaking earth did groan, the Sky looked black  
The Fire, the forced Air, in sunder crack;  
The sea did threat the heavens, the heavn's the earth,  
All looked like a Chaos or new birth:  
Fire broiled Earth, & scorched Earth it choked  
Both by their dare, water so provoked  
That roaring in it came, and with its source  
Soon made the Combatants abate their force  
The rumbling hissing; puffing was so great  
The world's confusion, it did seem to threat  
Till gentle Air, Contention so abated  
That betwixt hot and cold, she arbritrated  
The others difference, being less did cease  
All storms now laid, and they in perfect peace  
That Fire should first begin, the rest consent,  
The noblest and most active Element.  

Fire.  
What is my worth (both ye) and all men know,  
In little time I can but little show▪  
But what I am, let learned Grecians say,  
What I can do well skilled Mechanics may:  
The benefit all living by me find,  
All sorts of Artists here declare your mind,  
What tool was ever framed, but by my might?  
Ye Martilists, what weapons for your fight,  
To try your valour by, but it must feel  
My force? your sword, & Gun, your Lance of steel▪  
Your Cannon's bootless and your powder too  
Without mine aid, (alas) what can they do:  
The adverse walls not shaked, the Mines not blown▪  
And in despite the City keeps her own;  
But I with one Granado or Petard,  
Set open those gates, that'fore so strong were barred.  
Ye Husbandmen, your Coulters made by me  
Your Hooes your Mattocks, & what e'er you see  
Subdue the Earth, and fit it for your Grain  
That so it might in time requite your pain:  
Though strong limbed Vulcan forged it by his skill  
I made it flexible unto his will▪  
The Cooks, your Kitchen implements I frame  
Your Spits, Pots, Jacks, what else I need not name.  
Your daily food I wholesome make, I warm  
Your shrinking Limbs, which winter's cold doth harm.  
Ye Paracels●● too in vain's your skill  
In Chemistry unless I help you Still.  
And you Philosophers if e'er you made  
A transmutation it was through mine aid.  
Ye silver smith's your Ure I do refine  
What mingled lay with Earth I cause to shine;  
But let me leave these things, my flame aspires  
To match on high with the Celestial fires:  
The Sun an Orb of fire was held of old,  
Our Sages new another tale have told:  
But be he what they will yet his aspect  
A burning fiery heat we find reflect,  
And of the self same nature is with mine  
Cold sister Earth, no witness needs but thine:  
How doth his warmth, refresh thy frozen back  
And trim thee brave, in green, after thy black:  
Both man and beast rejoice at his approach,  
And birds do sing, to see his glittering Coach  
And though nought, but Salmanders live in fire  
And fly Pyrausta called, all else expire,  
Yet men and beast Astronomers will tell  
Fixed in heavenly Constellations dwell,  
My Planets of both Sexes whose degree  
Poor Heathen judged worthy a Deity:  
There's Orion armed attended by his dog;  
The Theban stout Alcides with his Club,  
The valiant Perseus, who Medusa slew,  
The horse that killed Belerophon, then flew.  
My Crab, my Scorpion, fishes you may see  
The Maid with balance, wain with horses three,  
The Ram, the Bull, the Lion, and the Beagle,  
The Bear, the Goat, the Raven, and the Eagle,  
The Crown the Whale, the Archer, Bernice Hare,  
The Hydra, Dolphin, Boys that water bear,  
Nay more, than these, Rivers 'mongst stars are found  
Eridanu●, where Phaeton was drowned.  
Their magnitude, and height, should I recount  
My story to a volume would amount,  
Out of a multitude these few I touch,  
Your wisdom out of little gather much.  
I'll here let pass my choler, cause of wars  
and influence of divers of those stars  
When in Conjunction with the Sun do more  
Augment his heat, which was too hot before.  
The Summer ripening season I do claim  
And man from thirty unto fifty frame.  
Of old when Sacrifices were Divine,  
I of acceptance was the holy sign,  
'Mong all my wonders which I might recount,  
There's none more strange than Aetna's Sulphry mount  
The choking flames, that from Vesuvius flew  
The over curious second Pliny slew,  
And with the Ashes that it sometimes shed  
Apulia's ' jacent parts were covered.  
And though I be a servant to each man  
Yet by my force, master, my masters can.  
What famous Towns, to Cinders have I turned?  
What lasting sorts my kindled wrath hath burned?  
The stately Seats of mighty Kings by me  
In confused heaps, of ashes may you see.  
where's Ninut great walled Town, & Troy of old  
Carthage, and hundred more in stories told  
Which when they could not be o'ercome by foes  
The Army, through my help victorious rose  
And stately London, (our great Britain's glory)  
My raging flame did make a mournful story,  
But maugre all, that I, or foes could do  
That Phoenix from her Bed, is risen New.  
Old sacred Zion, I demolished thee.  
So great Diana's Temple was by me,  
And more than brutish Sodom, for her lust  
With neighbouring Towns, I did consume to dust  
What shall I say of Lightning and of Thunder  
Which Kings & mighty ones amaze with wonder,  
Which made a Caesar, (Rome's) the world's proud head,  
Foolish Caligula creep under's bed.  
Of Meteors, ignis satuus and the rest,  
But to leave those to th'wise, I judge it best.  
The rich I oft make poor, the strong I maim,  
Not sparing Life when I can take the same;  
And in a word, the world I shall consume  
And all therein, at that great day of Doom;  
Not before then, shall cease, my raging ire,  
And then because no matter more for fire.  
Now Sisters pray proceed, each in your Course  
As I, impart your usefulness and force.   

Earth.  
The next in place Earth judged to be her due,  
Sister (quoth she) I come not short of you,  
In wealth and use I do surpass you all,  
And mother earth of old men did me call:  
Such is my fruitfulness, an Epithet,  
Which none ere gave, or you could claim of right  
Among my praises this I count not least,  
I am th'original of man and beast.  
To tell what sundry fruits my fat soil yields  
In Vineyards, Garden, Orchards & Cornfields,  
Their kinds, their tastes, their colours & their smells  
Would so pass time I could say nothing else:  
The rich the poor, wise, fool, and every sort  
Of these so common things can make report.  
To tell you of my countries and my Regions,  
Soon would they pass not hundreds but legions:  
My cities famous, rich and populous,  
Whose numbers now are grown innumerous.  
I have not time to think of every part,  
Yet let me name my Grecia, 'tis my heart.  
For learning arms and arts I love it well,  
But chief 'cause the Muses there did dwell.  
I'll here skip over my mountains reaching skies,  
Whether ●yrenean, or the Alps, both lies  
On either side the country of the Gauls  
Strong forts, from Spanish and Italian brawls.  
And huge great Taur●● longer than the rest,  
Dividing great Arme●ia from the ●east;  
And Hemus whose steep sides none foot upon,  
But farewell all for dear mount Hel●con.  
And wondrous high Olympus, of such fame,  
That heaven itself was oft called by that name.  
Parn●ssus sweet, I dote too much on thee,  
Unless thou prove a better friend to me:  
But I'll leap over these hills, not touch a dale,  
Nor will I stay, no not in Tempe Vale,  
I'll here let go my Lions of Nu●●a●●,  
My Panthers and my Leopards of Libya,  
The Behemoth and rare found Unicorn,  
Poisons sure antidote lies in his horn,  
And my Hiaena (imitates man's voice)  
Out of great numbers I might pick my choice,  
Thousands in woods & plains, both wild & tame,  
But here or there, I list now none to name:  
No, though the fawning Dog did urge me sore,  
In his behalf to speak a word the more,  
Whose trust and valour I might here commend;  
But time's too short and precious so to spend.  
But hark you wealthy merchants, who for prize  
Send forth your well-maned ships where sun doth rise,  
After three years when men and meat is spent,  
My rich Commodities pay double rent.  
Ye Galenists, my Drugs that come from thence,  
Do cure your Patients, fill your purse with pence;  
Besides the use of roots, of herbs and plants,  
That with less cost near home supply your wants.  
But Mariners, where got you ships and Sails,  
And Oars to row, when both my Sisters fails?  
Your Tackling, Anchor, compass too is mine,  
Which guides when sun nor moon nor stars do shine.  
Ye mighty Kings, who for your lasting fames  
Built Cities, Monuments, called by your names,  
Were those compiled heaps of massy stones  
That your ambition laid, ought but my bones?  
Ye greedy misers, who do dig for gold  
For genius, for silver, Treasures which I hold,  
Will not my goodly face your rage suffice  
But you will see what in my bowels lies?  
And ye Artificers, all Trades and sorts  
My bounty calls you forth to make reports,  
If ought you have, to use, to wear, to eat,  
But what I freely yield upon your sweat?  
And Choleric Sister, thou for all thine ire  
Well know'st my fuel must maintain thy fire.  
As I ingenuously with thanks confess,  
My cold thy fruitful heat doth crave no less:  
But how my cold dry temper works upon  
The melancholy Constitution;  
How the autumnal season I do sway,  
And how I force the grey-head to obey,  
I should here make a short, yet true Narration,  
But that thy method is mine imitation.  
Now must I show mine adverse quality,  
And how I oft work man's mortality:  
He sometimes finds, maugre his toiling pain  
Thistles and thorns where he expected grain.  
My sap to plants and trees I must not grant,  
The vine, the olive, and the figtree want:  
The Corn and Hay do fall before they're mown,  
And buds from fruitful trees as soon as blown;  
Then dearth prevails, that nature to suffice  
The Mother on her tender infant ●lyes;  
The husband knows no wise, nor father sons,  
But to all outrages their hunger runs:  
Dreadful examples soon I might produce,  
But to such Auditors 'twere of no use.  
Again when Delvers dare in hope of gold  
To open those veins of Mine, audacious bold:  
While they thus in mine entrails love to dive,  
Before they know, they are interred alive.  
Y'affrighted wights appalled, how do ye shake,  
When once you feel me your foundation quake?  
Because in the Abbysse of my dark womb  
Your cities and yourselves I oft entomb:  
O dreadful Sepulchre! that this is true  
Dathan and all his company well knew,  
So did that Roman, far more stout than wise,  
Bur'ing himself alive for honour's prize.  
And since fair Italy full sadly knows  
What she hath lost by these remed'less woes.  
Again what veins of poison in me l●e,  
Some kill outright, and some do stupifye:  
Nay into herbs and plants it sometimes creeps,  
In heats & colds & gripes & drowsy sleeps:  
Thus I occasion death to man and beast  
When food they seek, & harm mistrust the least.  
Much might I say of the hot Libyan sand  
Which rise like tumbling Billows on the Land  
Wherein Cambyses Army was o'erthrown  
(but windy Sister, 'twas when you have blown)  
I'll say no more, but this thing add I must  
Remember Sons, your mould is of my dust  
And after death whether interred or burned  
As Earth at first so into Earth returned.   

Water.  
Scarce Earth had done, but th'angry water moved  
Sister (quoth she) it had full well behoved  
Among your boastings to have praised me  
Cause of your fruitfulness as you shall see:  
This your neglect shows your ingratitude  
And how your subtlety, would men delude  
Not one of us (all knows) that's like to thee  
Ever in craving, from the other three;  
But thou art bound to me, above the rest  
Who am thy drink, thy blood, thy sap and best:  
If I withhold what art thou? dead dry lump  
Thou bear'st nor grass or plant nor tree▪ nor stump  
Thy extreme thirst is moistened by my love  
With springs below, and showers from above  
Or else thy Sun burned face, and gaping chop●  
Complain to th' heavens if I withhold my drops  
Thy Bear, thy Tiger, and thy Lion stout,  
When I am gone, their fierceness none needs doubt  
Thy Camel hath no strength, thy Bull, no force  
Nor mettal's found, in the courageous Horse  
Hinds leave their calves, the Elephant▪ the Fens  
The wolves and savage beasts, forsake their Dens  
The lofty Eagle, and the Stork fly low,  
The Peacock and the Ostrich, share in woe,  
The Pine, the Cedar, yea, and Daphne's Tree  
Do cease to flourish in this misery,  
Man wants his bread and wine, & pleasant fruits  
He knows, such sweets, lies not in Earth's dry roots  
Then seeks me out, in river and in well  
His deadly malady I might expel:  
If I supply, his heart and veins rejoice,  
If not, soon ends his life, as did his voice;  
That this is true, Earth thou canst not deny  
I call thine Egypt, this to verify,  
Which by my fatting Nile, doth yield such store  
That she can spare, when nations round are poor  
When I run low, and not o'erflow her brinks  
To meet with want, each woeful man be-thinks:  
And such I am, in Rivers, showers and springs  
But what's the wealth, that my rich Ocean brings  
Fishes so numberless, I there do hold  
If thou shouldst buy, it would exhaust thy gold:  
There lives the oily Whale, whom all men know  
Such wealth but not such like, Earth thou mayst show  
The Dolphin loving music, Arians friend  
The witty Barbel, whose craft doth her commend  
With thousands more, which now I list not name  
Thy silence of thy Beasts doth cause the same  
My pearls that dangle at thy Darlings ears,  
Not thou, but shellfish yield, as Pliny clears.  
Was ever gem so rich found in thy trunk,  
As Egypt's wanton, Cleopatra drunk?  
Or hast thou any colour can come nigh  
The Roman purple double Tyrian Dye?  
Which Caesar's Consuls, Tribunes all adorn,  
For it to search my waves they thought no scorn.  
Thy gallant rich perfuming Ambergris  
I lightly cast ashore as frothy fleece:  
With rolling grains of purest massy gold,  
Which Spain's Americans do gladly hold.  
Earth thou hast not more countries vales & mounds  
Then I have fountains, rivers lakes and ponds.  
My sundry seas, black, white and Adriatic,  
Ionian, Baltique and the vast Atlantic,  
Aegean, Caspian, golden Rivers five,  
Asphaltis' lake where nought remains alive:  
But I should go beyond thee in my boasts▪  
If I should name more seas than thou hast Coasts.  
And be thy mountains ne'er so high and steep,  
I soon can match them with my seas as deep.  
To speak of kinds of waters I neglect,  
My divers fountains and their strange effect:  
My wholesome baths, together with their cures;  
My water Sirens with their guileful lures.  
Th'uncertain cause of certain ebbs and flows,  
Which wondering Aristotle's wit ne'er knows.  
Nor will I speak of waters made by art,  
Which can to life restore a fainting heart.  
Nor fruitful dews, nor drops distilled from eyes,  
Which pity move, and oft deceive the wise:  
Nor yet of salt and sugar, sweet and smart,  
Both when we list to water we convert.  
Alas thy ships and oars could do no good  
Did they but want my Ocean and my flood.  
The wary merchant on his weary beast  
Transfers his goods from south to north and east,  
Unless I ease his toil, and do transport  
The wealthy freight unto his wished port.  
These be my benefits, which may suffice:  
I now must show what ill there in me lies.  
The flegmy Constitution I uphold,  
All humours, tumours which are bred of cold:  
O'er childhood, and o'er winter I bear sway,  
And Luna for my Regent I obey.  
As I with showers oft times refresh the earth,  
So oft in my excess I cause a dearth,  
And with abundant wet so cool the ground,  
By adding cold to cold no fruit proves sound.  
The Farmer and the Grazier do complain  
Of rotten sheep, lean kine, and mildewed grain.  
And with my wasting floods and roaring torren●,  
Their cattle hay and corn I sweep down current.  
Nay many times my Ocean breaks his bounds,  
And with astonishment the world confounds,  
And swallows Countries up, ne'er seen again,  
And that an island makes which once was Main:  
Thus Britain fair ('tis thought) was cut from France  
Sicily from Italy by the like chance,  
And but one land was Africa and Spain  
Until proud Gibraltar did make them twain.  
Some say I swallowed up (sure 'tis a notion)  
A mighty country in th' Atlantic Ocean.  
I need not say much of my hail and snow,  
My ice and extreme cold, which all men know,  
Whereof the first so ominous I reigned,  
That Israel's enemies therewith were brained:  
And of my chilling snows such plenty be.  
That Caucasus high mounts are seldom free.  
Mine ice doth glaze Europe's great rivers o'er,  
Till sun release, their ships can sail no more.  
All know that inundations I have made,  
Wherein not men, but mountains seemed to wade,  
As when Achaia, all under water stood,  
That for two hundred years it ne'er proved good.  
Dencalions' great Deluge with many more,  
But these are trifles to the flood of No●,  
Then wholly perished Earth's ignoble race,  
And to this day impairs her beauteous face,  
That after times sh●● never feel like woe,  
Her confirmed sons behold my coloured bow.  
Much might I say of wracks, but that I'll spare,  
And now give place unto our Sister Air,   

Air.  
Content (quoth Air) to speak the last of you,  
Yet am not ignorant first was my due:  
I do suppose you'll yield without control  
I am the breath of every living soul.  
Mortals, what one of you that loves not me  
Abundantly more than my Sisters three?  
And though you love Fire, Earth and Water well  
Yet Air beyond all these you know t'excel.  
I ask the man condemned, that's near his death,  
How gladly should his gold purchase his breath,  
And all the wealth that ever earth did give,  
How freely should it go so he might live:  
No earth, thy witching trash were all but vain,  
If my pure air thy sons did not sustain.  
The famished thirsty man that craves supply,  
His moving reason is, give lest I die,  
So loath he is to go though nature's spent  
To bid adieu to his dear Element.  
Nay what are words which do reveal the mind,  
Speak who or what they will they are but wind.  
Your drums your trumpets & your organs sound,  
What is't but forced air which doth rebound,  
And such are echoes and report ofth ' gun  
That tells afar th'exploit which it hath done.  
Your Songs and pleasant tunes they are the same,  
And so's the notes which Nightingales do frame.  
Ye forging Smiths, if bellows once were gone  
Your red hot work more coldly would go on.  
Ye Mariners, 'tis I that fill your sails  
And speed you to your port with wished gales.  
When burning heat doth cause you faint, I cool,  
And when I smile, your ocean's like a pool.  
I help to ripe the corn, I turn the mill,  
And with myself I every Vacuum fill  
The ruddy sweet sanguine is like to air.  
And youth and spring, Sages to me compare,  
My moist hot nature is so purely thin,  
No place so subtly made, but I get in.  
I grow more pure and pure as I mount higher,  
And when I'm throughly rarified turn fire:  
So when I am condensed, I turn to water,  
Which may be done by holding down my vapour.  
Thus I another body can assume,  
And in a trice my own nature resume.  
Some for this cause of late have been so bold  
Me for no Element longer to hold,  
Let such suspend their thoughts, and silent be,  
For all Philosophers make one of me:  
And what those Sages either spoke or writ  
Is more authentic than our modern wit.  
Next of my fowls such multitudes there are,  
Earth's beasts and waters fish scarce can compare.  
Th'Ostrich with her plumes, th'Eagle with her ey●  
The Phoenix too (if any be) are mine,  
The stork, the crane, the partridge, and the pheasant  
The Thrush, the wren, the lark a prey to''th' peasant.  
With thousands more which now I may omit  
Without impeachment to my tale or wit.  
As my fresh air preserves all things in life,  
So when corrupt, mortality is rife:  
Then Fevers, Purples, Pox and Pestilence,  
With divers more work deadly consequence:  
Whereof such multitudes have died and fled,  
The living scarce had power to bury dead;  
Yea so contagious countries have we known  
That birds have not 'scapt death as they have flown  
Of murrain, cattle numberless did fall,  
Me● feared destruction epidemical.  
Then of my tempests felt at sea and land,  
Which neither ships nor houses could withstand,  
What woeful wracks I've made may well appear,  
If nought were known but that before Algere,  
Where famous Charles the fifth more loss sustained  
Then in his long hot war which Milan gained.  
Again what furious storms and Hurricanoes  
Know western Isles, as Christopher's, Barbadoes,  
Where neither houses, trees nor plants I spare;  
But some fall down, and some fly up with air.  
Earthquakes so hurtful, and so feared of all,  
Imprisoned I, am the original.  
Then what prodigious sights I sometimes show,  
As battles pitched in th' air, as countries know,  
Their joining fight, forcing and retreat,  
That earth appears in heaven, O wonder great!  
Sometimes red flaming swords and blazing stars,  
Portentous signs of famines, plagues and wars.  
Which make the mighty Monarches fear their fates  
By death or great mutation of their States.  
I have said less than did my Sisters three,  
But what's their wrath or force, the same's in me.  
To add to all I've said was my intent,  
But dare not go beyond my Element.    

Of the four Humours in Man's Constitution.  
THe former four now ending their discourse,  
Ceasing to vaunt their good, or threat their force,  
Lo other four step up, crave leave to show  
The native qualities that from them flow:  
But first they wisely showed their high descent,  
Each eldest daughter to each Element.  
Choler was owned by fire, and Blood by air,  
Earth knew her black swarth child, water her fair:  
All having made obeisance to each Mother,  
Had leave to speak, succeeding one the other:  
But 'mongst themselves they were at variance,  
Which of the four should have predominance.  
Choler first hotly claimed right by her mother,  
Who had precedency of all the other:  
But Sanguine did disdain what she required,  
Pleading herself was most of all desired.  
Proud Melancholy more envious than the rest,  
The second, third or last could not digest.  
She was the silentest of all the four,  
Her wisdom spoke not much, but thought the more  
Mild Phlegm did not contest for chiefest place,  
Only she craved to have a vacant spac●.  
Well, thus they parley and chide; but to be brief,  
Or will they, nill they, Choler will be chief.  
They seeing her impetuosity  
At present yielded to necessity.  

Choler.  
To show my high descent and pedigree,  
Yourselves would judge but vain prolixity▪  
It is acknowledged from whence I came,  
It shall suffice to show you what I am,  
Myself and mother one, as you shall see,  
But she in greater, I in less degree.  
We both once Masculines, the world doth ' know,  
Now Feminines awhile, for love we owe?  
Unto your Sisterhood, which makes us render  
Our noble selves in a less noble gender.  
Though under Fire we comprehend all heat,  
Yet man for Choler is the proper seat:  
I in his heart erect my regal throne,  
Where Monarch like I play and sway alone.  
Yet many times unto my great disgrace  
One of yourselves are my Compeers in place,  
Where if your rule prove once predominant,  
The man proves boyish, sottish, ignorant:  
But if you yield subservience unto me,  
I make a man, a man in th'high'st degree:  
Be he a soldier, I more fence his heart  
Then iron Corslet 'gainst a sword or dart.  
What makes him face his foe without appal,  
To storm a breach, or scale a city wall,  
In dangers to account himself more sure  
Then timorous Hares whom Castles do immure?  
Have you not heard of worthies, Demigods?  
Twixt them and others what is't makes the odds  
But valour? whence comes that▪ from none of you,  
Nay milksops at such brunts you look but blue.  
Here's sister ruddy, worth the other two,  
Who much will talk, but little dares she do,  
Unless to Court and claw, to dice and drink,  
And there she will outbid us all, I think,  
She loves a fiddle better than a drum,  
A Chamber well, in field she dares not come,  
She'll ride a horse as bravely as the best,  
And break a staff, provided be in jest;  
But shuns to look on wounds, & blood that's spilt,  
She loves her sword only because its gilt.  
Then here's our sad black Sister, worse than you.  
She'll neither say she will, nor will she do;  
But peevish Malcontent, musing sits,  
And by misprissions like to lose her wits:  
If great persuasions cause her meet her foe,  
In her dull resolution she's so slow,  
To march her pace to some is greater pain  
Then by a quick encounter to be slain.  
But be she beaten, she'll not run away,  
She'll first advise if't be not best to stay.  
Now let's give cold white sister phlegm her right,  
So loving unto all she scorns to fight:  
If any threaten her, she'll in a trice  
Convert from water to congealed ice:  
Her teeth will chatter▪ dead and wan's her face,  
And before she be assaulted, quits the place.  
She dares not challenge, if I speak amiss,  
Nor hath she wit or heat to blush at this.  
Here's three of you all see now what you are,  
Then yield to me pre-eminence in war.  
Again who fits for learning, science, arts?  
Who rarefies the intellectual parts:  
From whence fine spirits f●ow and witty notions:  
But 'tis not from our dull, slow sisters motions:  
Nor sister sanguine, from thy moderate heat,  
Poor sp●rits the Liver breeds, which is thy seat.  
What comes from thence, my heat refines the same  
And through the arteries sends it o'er the frame:  
The vital spirits they're called▪ and well they may  
For when they fail, man turns unto his clay.  
The animal I claim as well as these,  
The nerves, should I not warm, soon would they freeze  
But phlegm herself is now provoked at this  
She thinks I never shot so far amiss.  
The brain she challengeth, the head●s her seat;  
But know'ts a foolish brain that wanteth heat.  
My absence proves it plain, her wit then flies  
Out at her nose, or melteth at her eyes.  
Oh who would miss this influence of thine  
To be distilled, a drop on every Line?  
Alas, thou hast no Spirits thy Company  
Will feed a dropsy, or a Tympany,  
The Palsy, Gout, or Cramp, or some such dolour:  
Thou wast not made, for Soldier or for Scholar;  
Of greasy paunch, and bloated cheeks go vaunt,  
But a good head from these are dissonant.  
But Melancholy, wouldst have this glory thine,  
Thou sayest thy wits are stayed, subtle and fine,  
'Tis true, when I am Midwife to thy birth  
thyself's as dull, as is thy mother Earth:  
Thou canst not claim the liver, head nor heart  
Yet hast the Seat assigned, a goodly part  
The sink of all us three, the hateful Spleen  
Of that black Region, nature made thee Queen;  
Where pain and sore obstruction thou dost work,  
Where envy, malice, thy Companions lurk.  
If once thou'rt great, what follows thereupon  
But bodies wasting, and destruction?  
So base thou art, that base cannot be,  
Th' excrement adustion of me.  
But I am weary to dilate your shame,  
Nor is't my pleasure thus to blur your name,  
Only to raise my honour to the Skies,  
As objects best appear by contraries.  
But Arms, and Arts I claim, and higher things,  
The princely qualities befitting Kings,  
Whose profound heads I line with policies,  
They're held for Oracles, they are so wise,  
Their wrathful looks are death their words are laws  
Their Courage it foe, friend, and Subject awes;  
But one of you, would make a worthy King  
Like our sixth Henry (that same virtuous thing)  
That when a Varlet struck him o'er the side,  
Forsooth you are to blame, he grave replied.  
Take Choler from a Prince, what is he more  
Than a dead Lion, by Beasts triumphed o'er.  
Again you know, how I act every part  
By th' influence, I still send from the heart:  
It's nor your Muscles, nerves, nor this nor that  
Does aught without my lively heat, that's slat:  
Nay th' stomach magazine to all the rest  
Without my boiling heat cannot digest:  
And yet to make my greatness, still more great  
What differences, the Sex? but only heat.  
And one thing more, to close up my narration  
Of all that lives, I cause the propagation.  
I have been sparings what I might have said  
I love no boasting thats but children's trade.  
To what you now shall say I will attend,  
And to your weakness gently condescend.   

Blood.  
Good Sisters give me leave, as is my place  
To vent my grief, and wipe off my disgrace:  
Yourselves may plead your wrongs are no whit less  
Your patience more than mine, I must confess▪  
Did ever sober tongue such language speak.  
Or honesty such ties unfriendly break?  
Dost know thyself so well us so amiss?  
Is't arrogance or folly causeth this?  
I'll only show the wrong thou'st done to me,  
Then let my sister's right their injury.  
To pay with rail is not mine intent,  
But to evince the truth by Argument  
I will analyse this thy proud relation  
So full of boasting and prevarication,  
Thy foolish incongruityes I'll show,  
So walk thee till thou'rt cold, then let thee go.  
There is no Soldier but thyself (thou sayest,)  
No valour upon Earth, but what thou hast  
Thy silly provocations I despise,  
And leave't to all to judge, where valour lies  
No pattern, nor no pattron will I bring  
But David, Judah's most heroic King,  
Whose glorious deeds in Arms the world can tell,  
A rosy cheek Musician thou knowst well;  
He knew well how to handle Sword and Harp,  
And how to strike full sweet, as well as sharp,  
Thou laughest at me for loving merriment,  
And scornest all Knightly sports at Tournament.  
Thou sayest I love my Sword, because it's gilded,  
But know, I love the Blade, more than the Hil●,  
Yet do abhor such temerarious deeds,  
As thy unbridled barbarous Choler breeds:  
Thy rudeness counts good manners vanity,  
And real Compliments base flattery.  
For drink, which of us twain like it the best,  
I'll go no further than thy nose for test:  
Thy other scoffs, not worthy of reply  
Shall vanish as of no validity:  
Of thy black Calumnies this is but part,  
But now I'll show what soldier thou art.  
And though thou'st used me with opprobrious spite  
My ingenuity must give thee right.  
Thy choler is but rage when 'tis most pure,  
But useful when a mixture can endure;  
As with thy mother fire, so 'tis with thee,  
The best of all the four when they agree:  
But let her leave the rest, than I presume  
Both them and all things else she would consume.  
Whilst us for thine associates thou tak'st,  
A Soldier most complete in all points makest:  
But when thou scornest to take the help we lend,  
Thou art a Fury or infernal Fiend.  
Witness the execrable deeds thou●st done,  
Nor sparing Sex nor Age, nor Sire nor Son;  
To satisfy thy pride and cruelty,  
Thou oft hast broke bounds of Humanity,  
Nay should I tell, thou wouldst count me no blab,  
How often for the lie, thou'st given the stab.  
To take the wall's a sin of so high rate,  
That nought but death the same may expiate,  
To cross thy will, a challenge doth deserve  
So sheddest that blood, thou'rt bounden to preserve  
Wilt thou this valour, Courage, Manhood call:  
No, know 'tis pride most diabolical.  
If murders be thy glory, 'tis no less,  
I'll not envy thy feats, nor happiness:  
But if in fitting time and place 'gainst foes  
For countries' good thy life thou darest expose,  
Be dangers ne'er so high, and courage great,  
I'll praise that prowess, fury, Choler, heat:  
But such thou never art when all alone,  
Yet such when we all four are joined in one.  
And when such thou art, even such are we,  
The friendly Coadjutors still of thee.  
Nextly the Spirits thou dost wholly claim,  
Which natural, vital, animal we name:  
To play Philosopher I have no list,  
Nor yet Physician, nor Anatomist,  
For acting these, I have no will nor Art,  
Yet shall with Equity, give thee thy part  
For natural, thou dost not much contest;  
For there is none (thou sayest) if some not best  
That there are some, and best, I dare aver  
Of greatest use, if reason do not err:  
What is there living, which don't first derive  
His Life now Animal, from vegetive:  
If thou giv'st life, I give the nourishment,  
Thine without mine, is not, 'tis evident:  
But I without thy help, can give a growth  
As plants trees and small Embryon knoweth  
And if vital Spirit●, do flow from thee  
I am as sure, the natural, from me:  
Be thine the nobler, which I grant, yet mine  
Shall justly claim priority of thine.  
I am the fountain which thy Cistern fills  
Through warm blue Conduits of my venial rills▪  
What hath the heart but what's sent from the liver  
If thou'rt the taker, I must be the giver.  
Then never boast of what thou dost receive:  
For of such glory I shall thee bereave.  
But why the he art should be usurped by thee,  
I must confess seems something strange to me:  
The spirits through thy heat made perfect are,  
But the Materials none of thine, that's clear▪  
Their wondrous mixture is of blood and air,  
The first myself, second my mother fair.  
But I'll not force retorts, nor do thee wrong,  
Thy fi'ry yellow froth is mixed among,  
Challenge not all, 'cause part we do allow;  
Thou knowst I've there to do as well as thou:  
But thou wilt faith I deal unequally,  
Their lives the irascible faculty,  
Which without all dispute, is Cholers own;  
Besides the vehement heat, only there known  
Can be imputed, unto none but fire  
Which is thyself, thy Mother and thy Sire  
That this is true, I easily can assent  
If still you take along my Aliment;  
And let me be your partner which is due,  
So shall I give the dignity to you:  
Again, Stomaches Concoction thou dost claim,  
But by what right, nor dost, nor canst thou name  
Unless, as heat, it be thy faculty,  
And so thou challengest her property.  
The help she needs, the loving liver lends,  
Who th' benefit o'th' whole ever intends  
To meddle further I shall be but shent,  
Th'rest to our Sisters is more pertinent;  
Your slanders thus refuted takes no place,  
Nor what you've said, doth argue my disgrace,  
Now through your leaves, some little time I'll spend  
My worth in humble manner to commend  
This, hot, moist nutritive humour of mine  
When 'tis untaint, pure, and most genuine  
Shall chief take the place, as is my due  
Without the least indignity to you.  
Of all your qualities I do partake,  
And what you single are, the whole I make  
Your hot, moist, cold, dry natures are but four,  
I moderately am all, what need I more;  
As thus, if hot then dry, if moist then cold,  
If this you can't disprove, than all I hold  
My virtues hid, I've let you dim●y see  
My sweet Complexion proves the verity.  
This Scarlet dies a badge of what's within  
One touch thereof, so beauti●ies the skin:  
Nay, could I be, from all your tangs but pure  
Man's life to boundless Time might still endure.  
But here one thrusts her heat, wher'ts not required  
So suddenly, the body all is fired,  
And of the calm sweet temper quite bereft,  
Which ' makes the Mansion, by the Soul soon left.  
So Melancholy seizes on a man,  
With her unchearful visage, swarth and wan,  
The body dries, the mind sublime doth smother,  
And turns him to the womb of's earthy mother:  
And phlegm likewise can show her cruel art,  
With cold distempers to pain every part:  
The lungs she rots, the body wears away,  
As if she'd leave no flesh to turn to clay,  
Her languishing diseases, though not quick  
At length demolishes the Faberick,  
All to prevent, this curious care I take,  
In th' last concoction segregation make  
Of all the perverse humours from mine own,  
The bitter choler most malignant known  
I turn into his Cell close by my side  
The Melancholy to the Spleen t'abide:  
Likewise the whey, some use I in the veins,  
The overplus I send unto the reins:  
But yet for all my toil, my care and skill,  
It's doomed by an irrevocable will  
That my intents should meet with interruption,  
That mortal man might turn to his corruption.  
I might here show the nobleness of mind  
Of such as to the sanguine are inclined,  
They're liberal, pleasant, kind and courteous,  
And like the Liver all benignious.  
For arts and sciences they are the fittest▪  
And maugre Choler still ●hey are the wittiest:  
With an ingenious working Fantasy,  
A most voluminous large Memory,  
And nothing wanting but Solidity.  
But why alas, thus tedious should be,  
Thousand examples you may ●aily see.  
If time I have transgressed, and been too long,  
Yet could not be more brief without much wrong;  
I've scarce wiped off the spots proud choler cast,  
Such venom lies in words, though but a blast:  
No brags i've used, to you I dare appeal,  
If modesty my worth do not conceal.  
I've used no bittererss, nor ●axt your name,  
As I to you, to me do ye the same.   

Melancholy.  
He that with two Assailants hath to do,  
Had need be armed well and active too.  
Especially when friendship is pretended,  
That blows most deadly where it is intended.  
Though choler rage and rail, I'll not do so,  
The tongue's no weapon to assault a foe●  
But ●ith we fight with words, we might be kind  
To spare ourselves and beat the whistling wind,  
Fair rosy sister, so mightst thou scape free;  
I'll flatter for a time as thou didst me:  
But when the first offender I have laid,  
Thy soothing girds shall fully be repaid.  
But Choler be thou cooled or chafed, I'll venture,  
And in contentions lists now justly enter.  
What moved thee thus to vilify my name,  
Not past all reason, but in truth all shame:  
Thy fiery spirit shall bear away this prize,  
To play such furious pranks I am too wise:  
If in a Soldier rashness be so precious,  
Know in a General 'tis most pernicious.  
Nature doth teach to shield the head from harm,  
The blow that's aimed thereat is latcht by th'arm.  
When in Battalions my foes I face  
I then command proud Choler stand thy place,  
To use thy sword, thy courage and thy art  
There to defend myself, thy better part.  
This wariness count not for cowardice,  
He is not truly valiant that's not wise.  
It's no less glory to defend a town,  
Then by assault to gain one not our own;  
And if Marcellus bold be called Rome's sword,  
Wise Fabius is her buckler all accord:  
And if thy haste my slowness should not temper,  
'Twere but a mad irregular distemper;  
Enough of that by our sisters heretofore,  
I'll come to that which wounds me somewhat more  
Of learning, policy thou wouldst bereave me,  
But's not thine ignorance shall thus deceive me:  
What greater Clerk or Politician lives,  
Then he whose brain a touch my humour gives?  
What is too hot my coldness doth abate,  
What's diffluent I do consolidate.  
If I be partial judged or thought to err,  
The melancholy shake shall it aver,  
Whose cold dry head more subtlety doth yield,  
Then all the huge beasts of the fertile field·  
Again thou dost confine me to the spleen,  
As of that only part I were the Queen▪  
Let me as well make thy precincts the Gall,  
So prison thee within that bladder small▪  
Reduce the man to's principles, then see  
If I have not more part than all you three:  
What is within, without, of theirs or thine,  
Yet time and age shall soon declare it mine.  
When death doth seize the man your stock is lost,  
When you poor bankrupts prove then have I most.  
You'll say here none shall e'er disturb my right  
You high born from that lump then take your flight  
Then who's man's friend, when life & all forsakes?  
His Mother mine, him to her womb retakes:  
Thus he is ours, his portion is the grave,  
But while he lives, I'll show what part I have:  
And first the firm dry bones I justly claim,  
The strong foundation of the stately frame:  
Likewise the useful Slpeen, though not the best,  
Yet is a bowel called well as the rest:  
The Liver, Stomach, own their thanks of right,  
The first it drains, of th'last quicks appetite.  
Laughter (though thou say malice) flows from hence,  
These two in one cannot have residence.  
But thou most grossly dost mistake to think  
The Spleen for all you three was made a sink,  
Of all the rest thou'st nothing there to do,  
But if thou hast, that malice is from you.  
Again you often touch my swarthy hue,  
That black is black, and I am black 'tis true;  
But yet more comely far I dare avow,  
Th●n is thy torrid nose or brazen brow.  
But that which shows how high your spite is bend  
Is charging me to be thy excrement:  
Thy loathsome imputation I defy,  
So plain a ●●nder needeth no reply.  
When by thy heat thou'st baked thyself to crust;  
And so art called black Choler or adust,  
Thou witless thinkest that I am thy excretion,  
So mean thou art in Art as in discretion:  
But by your leave I'll let your greatness see  
What Officer thou art to us all three.  
The Kitchen Drudge, the cleanser of the sinks  
That casts out all that man e'er eats or drinks:  
If any doubt the truth whence this should come,  
Show them thy passage to th' Duodenum;  
Thy biting quality still irritates,  
Till filth and thee nature exonerates:  
If there thou'rt stopped, to th' Liver thou turn'st in,  
And thence with jaundice saffrons all the skin.  
No further time I'll spend in confutation,  
I trust I've cleared your slanderous imputation.  
I now speak unto all, no more to one,  
Pray hear, admire and learn instruction.  
My virtues yours surpass without compare,  
The first my constancy that jewel rare:  
Choler's too rash this golden gift to hold,  
And Sanguine is more fickle manifold,  
Here, there her restless thoughts do ever fly,  
Constant in nothing but unconstancy.  
And what Phlegm is, we know, like to her mother,  
Unstable is the one, and so the other;  
With me is noble patience also found.  
Impatient Choler loveth not the sound,  
What sanguine is, she doth not heed nor care,  
Now up, now down, transported like the Air:  
Flegme's patiented because her nature's tame,  
But I, by virtue do acquire the same.  
My Temperance, Chastity is eminent,  
But these with you, are seldom resident;  
Now could I slain my ruddy Sister's face  
With deeper red, to show you her dsgrace,  
But rather I with silence vai●e her shame  
Then cause her blush, while I relate the same.  
Nor are ye free from this inormity,  
Although she bear the greatest obloquy,  
My prudence, judgement, I might now reveal  
But wisdom 'tis my wisdom to conceal.  
Unto diseases not inclined as you,  
Nor cold, nor hot, Ague nor Pleurisy,  
Nor Cough, nor Quinsey, nor the burning Fever,  
I rarely feel to act his fierce endeavour;  
My sickness in conceit chief doth lie,  
What I imagine that's my malady.  
Chimeras strange are in my fantasy,  
And things that never were, nor shall I see  
I love not talk, Reason lies not in length,  
Nor multitude of words argues our strength;  
I've done pray sister Phlegm proceed in Course,  
We shall expect much sound, but little force.   

Phlegm.  
Patiented I am, patiented i'd need to be,  
To bear with the injurious taunts of three,  
Though wit I want, and anger I have less,  
Enough o● both, my wrongs now to express  
I've not forgot, how bitter Choler spoke  
Nor how her gall on me she causeless broke;  
Nor wonder 'twas for hatred there's not small,  
Where opposition is Diametrical.  
To what is Truth I freely will assent,  
Although my Name do suffer detriment,  
What's slanderous repel, doubtful dispute,  
And when I've nothing left to say be mute.  
Valour I want no Soldier am 'tis true,  
I'll leave that manly Property to you;  
I love no thundering guns nor bloody wars,  
My polished Skin was not ordained for Scars;  
But though the pitched field I've ever fled,  
At home the Conquerors have conquered.  
Nay, I could tell you what's more true than meet,  
That Kings have laid their Sceptres at my feet;  
When Sister sanguine paints my Ivory face:  
The Monarches bend and sue, but for my grace  
My lily white when joined with her red,  
Princes hath slaved, and Captains captived.  
Country with Country, Greece with Asia fights  
Sixty nine Princes, all stout Hero Knights.  
Under Troy's walls ten years will wear away,  
Rather than lose one beauteous Helena.  
But 'twere as vain, to prove this truth of mine  
As at noon day, to tell the Sun doth shine.  
Next difference that 'twixt us twain doth lie  
Who doth possess the brain, or thou or I?  
Shame forced the say, the matter that was mine,  
But the Spirits by which it acts are thine:  
Thou speakest Truth, and I can say no less,  
Thy heat doth much, I candidly confess;  
Yet without ostentation I may say,  
I do as much for thee another way:  
And though I grant, thou art my helper here,  
No debtor I because it's paid else where.  
With all your flourishes, now Sisters three  
Who is't that dare, or can, compare with me,  
My excellencies are so great, so many,  
I am confounded; fore I speak of any:  
The brain's the noblest member all allow,  
Its form and Situation will avow,  
It's Ventricles, Membranes and wondrous net,  
Galen, Hypocrates drive to a set;  
That Divine Offspring the immortal Soul  
Though it in all, and every part be whole,  
Within this stately place of eminence,  
Doth doubtless keep its mighty residence.  
And surely, the Soul sensitive here lives,  
Which life and motion to each creature gives,  
The Conjugation of the parts, to th' brain  
Doth show, hence flow the powers which they retain  
Within this high Built Citadel, doth lie  
The Reason, fancy, and the memory.  
The faculty of speech doth here abide,  
The Spirits animal, from hence do slide:  
The five most noble Senses here do dwell;  
Of three it's hard to say, which doth excel.  
This point now to discuss, belongs not to me,  
I'll touch the sight great'st wonder of the three;  
The optic Nerve Coats, humours all are mine,  
The watery, glassy, and the Chrystaline;  
O mixture strange! O colour colourless,  
Thy perfect temperament who can express:  
He was no fool who thought the soul lay there,  
Whence her affections passions speak so clear.  
O good, O bad, O true, O traitorous eyes  
What wonderments within your Balls there lies,  
Of all the Senses fight shall be the Queen,  
Yet some may wish, O had mine eyes ne'er seen.  
Mine, likewise is the ●arrow, of the back,  
Which runs through all the Spondles of the rack,  
It is the substitute o'th' royal brain,  
All Nerves, except seven pair, to it retain.  
And the strong Ligaments from hence arise,  
Which joint to joint, the entire body ties.  
Some other parts there issue from the Brain,  
Whose worth and use to tell, I must refrain:  
Some curious learned Crook, may these reveal  
But modesty, hath charged me to conceal  
Here's my Epitome of excellence:  
For what's the Brains is mine by Consequence,  
A foolish brain (quoth Choler) wanting heat  
But a mad one sail, where 'tis too great,  
frenzy's worse than folly, one would more glad  
With a tame fool converse then with a mad;  
For learning then my brain is not the fittest,  
Nor will I yield that Choler is the wittiest.  
Thy judgement is unsafe, thy fancy little,  
For memory the sand is not more brittle;  
Again, none's fit for Kingly state but thou,  
If Tyrants be the best▪ I●le it allow:  
But if love be as requisite as fear,  
Then thou and I must make a mixture here.  
Well to be brief, I hope now Cholers laid,  
And I'll pass by what Sister sanguine said.  
To Melancholy I●le make no reply,  
The worst she said was instability,  
And too much talk both which I here confess  
A warning good, hereafter I'll say less.  
Let's now be friends; its time our spite were spent,  
Lest we too late this rashness do repent,  
Such premises will force a sad conclusion,  
Unless we agree, all falls into confu●ion.  
Let Sangine wit● her hot hand Choler hold,  
To take her moist my moisture will be bold:  
My cold▪ cold melancholy hand shall clasp;  
Her dry, dry Cholers other hand shall grasp.  
Two hot two moist, two cold, two dry here be,  
A golden Ring the Posey UNITY.  
Nor jars nor scoffs, let none hereafter see,  
But all admire our perfect Amity  
Nor be discerned▪ here's water, earth, air, fire,  
But here a compact body, whole entire.  
This loving counsel pleased them all so well  
That phlegm was judged for kindness to excel.    

Of the four Ages of Man.  
LO now four other act upon the stage.  
Childhood and Youth the Manly & Old age;  
The first son unto phlegm, Grandchild to water,  
Unstable, supple, co●● and moists his nature.  
The second frolic, claims his pedigree  
From blood and air, for hot and moist is he.  
The third of fire and Choler is composed  
Vindicative and quarrelsome disposed.  
The last of earth, and heavy melancholy,  
Solid, hating all lightness and all folly.  
Childhood was clothed in white & green to show  
His spring was intermixed with some snow:  
Upon his head nature a Garland set  
Of Primrose, Daizy & the Violet.  
Such cold mean flowers the spring puts forth betime  
Before the sun hath throughly heat the clime.  
His Hobby striding did not ride but run,  
And in his hand an hourglass new begun,  
In danger every moment of a fall,  
And when 'tis broke than ends his life and all:  
But if he hold till it have run its last,  
Then may he live out threescore years or past.  
Next Youth came up in gorgeous attire,  
(As that fond age doth most of all desire)  
His Suit of Crimson and his scarf of green,  
His pride in's countenance was quickly seen,  
Garland of roses, pinks and gillyflowers  
Seemed on's head to grow bedewed with showers:  
His face as fresh as is Aurora fair,  
When blushing she first begins to light the air.  
No wooden horse, but one of metal tried,  
He seems to fly or swim, and not to ride.  
Then prancing on the stage, about ●e wheels,  
But as he went death waited at his heels.  
The next came up in a much graver sort,  
As one that cared for a good report,  
His sword by's side, and choler in his eyes,  
But neither used as yet, for he was wise:  
Of Autumn's fruits a basket on his arm,  
His golden God in's purse, which was his charm.  
And last of all to act upon this stage  
Leaning upon his staff came up Old Age,  
Under his arm a sheaf of wheat he bore,  
An harvest of the best, what needs he more?  
In's other hand a glass even almost run,  
Thus writ about This out then am I done.  
His hoary hairs, and grave aspect made way,  
And all gave ear to what he had to say.  
These being met each in his equipage  
Intent to speak according to their age:  
But wise Old age did with all gravity  
To childish Childhood give precedency,  
And to the rest his reason mildly told,  
That he was young before he grew so old.  
To do as he each one full soon assents,  
Their method was that of the Elements,  
That each should tell what of himself he knew,  
Both good and bad, but yet no more than's true.  
With heed now stood three ages of frail man,  
To hear the child, who crying thus began:  

Childhood.  
Ah me! conceived in sin and born with sorrow,  
A nothing, here to day and gone to morrow,  
Whose mean beginning blushing can't reveal,  
But night and darkness must with shame conceal.  
My mother's breeding sickness I will spare,  
Her nine month's weary burden not declare.  
To show her bearing pains, I should do wrong,  
To tell those pangs which can't be told by tongue:  
With tears into the world I did arrive,  
My mother still did waste as I did thrive,  
Who yet with love and all alacrity,  
Spending, was willing to be spent for me.  
With wayward cries I did disturb her rest,  
Who sought still to appease me with the breast:  
With weary arms she danced and By By sung,  
When wretched I ingrate had done the wrong.  
When infancy was past, my childishness  
Did act ●ll folly that it could express,  
My silliness did only take delight  
In that which riper age did scorn and slight.  
In Rattles, Baubles and such toyish stuff,  
My then ambitious thoughts were low enough:  
My highborn soul so straightly was confined,  
That its own worth it did not know nor mind:  
This little house of flesh did spacious count,  
Through ignorance all troubles did surmount;  
Yet this advantage had mine ignorance  
Freedom from envy and from arrogance.  
How to be rich or great I did not cark,  
A Baron or a Duke ne'er made my mark,  
Nor studious was King's ●avours how to buy,  
With costly presence or base flattery:  
No office coveted wherein I might  
Make strong myself and turn aside weak right:  
No malice bare to this or that great Peer,  
Nor unto buzzing whisperers gave ear:  
I gave no hand nor vote for death or life,  
I'd nought to do 'twixt King and people's strife.  
No Statist I, nor Martilist inth' field,  
Where ere I went mine innocence was shield.  
My quarrels not for Diadems did rise,  
But for an apple, plum, or some such prize:  
My strokes did 'cause no blood no wounds or scars,  
My little wrath did end soon as my Wars:  
My Duel was not challenge, nor did seek  
My foe should weltering in his bowels reek.  
I had no suits at law neighbours to vex,  
Nor evidence for lands did me perplex.  
I feared no storms, nor all the wind that blows,  
I had no ships at sea; nor fraights to lose.  
I feared no drought nor wet, I had no crop,  
Nor yet on future things did set my hope.  
This was mine innocence, but ah! the seeds  
Lay raked up of all the cursed weeds  
Which sprouted forth in mine ensuing age,  
As he can tell that next comes on the stage:  
But yet let me relate before I go  
The sins and dangers I am subject to,  
Stained from birth with Adam's sinful fact,  
Thence I began to sin as soon as act:  
A perverse will, a love to what's forbid,  
A serpent's sting in pleasing face lay hid:  
A lying tongue as soon as it could speak,  
And fifth Commandment do daily break.  
Oft stubborn, peevish, sullen, pout and cry,  
Then nought can please, and yet I know not why.  
As many are my sins, so dangers too;  
For sin brings sorrow, sickness death and woe:  
And though I miss the toss of the mind,  
Yet griefs in my frail flesh I still do find.  
What gripes of wind mine infancy did pain,  
What tortures I in breeding teeth sustain?  
What crudityes my stomach cold ' hath bred,  
Whence vomits, flux and worms have issued?  
What breaches, knocks and falls I daily have,  
And some perhaps I carry to my grave,  
Sometimes in fire, sometimes in water fall,  
Strangely preseved, yet mind it not at all:  
At home, abroad my dangers manifold,  
That wonder 'tis, my glass till now doth hold.  
I've done; unto my elders I give way,  
For 'tis but little that a child can say.   

Youth.  
My goodly clothing, and my beauteous skin  
Declare some greater riches are within:  
But what is best I'll first present to view,  
And then the worst in a more ugly hue:  
For thus to do we on this stage assemble,  
Then let not him that hath most craft dissemble,  
My education and my learning such,  
As might myself and others profit much;  
With nurture trained up in virtues schools  
Of science, arts and tongues I know the rules,  
The manners of the court I also know,  
And so likewise what they inth' Country do.  
The brave attempts of valiant knights I prise,  
That dare scale walls and sorts reared to the skies.  
The s●orting Horse, the trumpet, Drum I like,  
The glittering sword, the Pistol and the Pike:  
I cannot lie entrenched before a town,  
No● wait till good success our hopes doth crown:  
I scorn the heavy Corslet, musket-proof;  
I fly to catch the bullet that's aloof.  
Though thus in field, at home to all most kind,  
So affable, that I can suit each mind.  
I can insinuate into the breast,  
And by my mirth can raise the heart depressed:  
Sweet music raps my brave harmonious soul,  
My high thoughts elevate beyond the pole:  
My wit, my bounty, and my courtesy,  
Make all to place their future hopes on me.  
This is my best▪ but Youth is known, Alas!  
To be as wild as is the snuffing Ass:  
As vain as froth, or vanity can be,  
That who would see vain man, may look on me  
My gifts abused▪ my education lost,  
My woeful Parents longing hopes are crossed,  
My wit evaporates in merriment,  
My valour in some beastly quarrel's spent:  
My lust doth hurry me to all that's ill:  
I know no law nor reason but my will.  
Sometimes lay wait to take a wealthy purse,  
Or stab the man in's own defence (that's worse)  
Sometimes I cheat (unkind) a female heir  
Of all at once▪ who not so wise as fair  
Trusteth my loving looks and glozing tongue,  
Until her friends, treasure and honour's gone.  
Sometimes I sit carousing others health,  
Until mine own be gone, my wit and wealth●  
From pipe to pot, from pot to words and blows,  
For he that loveth wine, wanteth no woes.  
Whole nights with Ruffians, Roarers Fiddlers spend,  
To all obscenity mine ears I lend:  
All Counsel hate, which tends to make me wise.  
And dearest friends count for mine enemies.  
If any care I take 'tis to be fine,  
For sure my suit▪ more then my virtues shine  
If time from lewd Companions I can spare▪  
'Tis spent to curl, and pounce my new bought hair.  
Some new Adonis I do strive to be;  
Sardanapalus n●w survives in me.  
Cards, Dice, and Oaths concomitant I love,  
To plays, to masks, to ●averns still I move.  
And in a word, if what I am you'd hear,  
Seek out a British brutish Cavalier:  
Such wretch, such Monster am I but yet more,  
I have no heart at all this to deplore,  
Remembering not the dreadful day of doom,  
Nor yet that heavy reckoning soon to come.  
Though dangers do attend me every hour,  
And ghastly Death oft threats me with his power,  
Sometimes by wounds in idle Combats taken,  
Sometimes with Agues all my body shaken:  
Sometimes by fevers, all my moisture drinking,  
My heart lies frying, & mine eyes are sinking,  
Sometimes the Quinsey, painful Pleurisy,  
With sad affrighrs of death doth menace me:  
Sometimes the two fold Pox me sore be mars  
With outward marks, & inward loathsome scars,  
Sometimes the Frenzy strangely mads my brain,  
That oft for it in Bedlam I remain.  
Too many my diseases to recite,  
That wonder 'tis, I yet behold the light,  
That yet my bed in darkness is not made,  
And I in black oblivions Den now laid.  
Of aches full my bones, of woe my heart,  
Clapped in that prison, never thence to start.  
Thus I have said, and what I've been, you see  
Childhood and Youth are vain ye vanity.   

Middle Age.  
Childhood and Youth (forgot) I've sometimes seen  
And now am grown more stayed who have been green  
What they have done, the same was done by me,  
As was their praise or shame, so mine must be.  
Now age is more; more good you may expect,  
But more mine age, the more is my defect.  
When my wild oats were sown & ripe and mown  
I then received an harvest of mine own.  
My reason then bad judge how little hope  
My empty seed should yield a better crop:  
Then with both hands I grasped the world together  
Thus out of one extreme into another:  
But yet laid hold on virtue seemingly,  
Who climbs without hold climbs dangerously▪  
Be my condition mean, I then take pains  
My Family to keep, but not for gains.  
A Father I, for children must provide;  
But if none, then for kindred near allied.  
If rich, I'm urged then to gather more,  
To bear a port i'th' world, and feed the poor.  
If noble, than mine honour ●o maintain,  
If not, riches nobility can gain.  
For time, for place, likewise for each Relation  
I wanted not, my ready allegation.  
Yet all my powers for self ends are not spent,  
For hundreds bless me for my bounty lent.  
Whose backs I've clothed, and bellies I have fe●  
With mine own fleec●, & with my household bread,  
Yea, justice have I done, was I in place,  
To cheer the good, and wicked to deface.  
The proud I crushed, th'oppressed I set free,  
The liars curbed, but nourished verity.  
Was I a Pastor, I my Flock did feed,  
And gently lead the Lambs as they had need.  
A Captain I, with Skill I trained my Band,  
And showed them how in fa●e of Foes to stand.  
A Soldier I, with speed I did obey  
As readily, as could my leader say.  
Was I a labourer, I wrought all day  
As cheerfully as e'er I took my pay.  
Thus hath mine Age in all sometimes done well▪  
Sometimes again, mine Age been worse then Hell.  
In meanness, greatness, riches, poverty▪  
Did toil, did broil, oppressed, did steal and lie.  
Was I as poor as poverty could be,  
Then baseness was Companion unto me.  
Such scum as hedges and highways do yield,  
As neither sow, nor rea●, nor plant nor build,  
If to Agriculture I was ordained,  
Great labours, sorrows, Crosses I sustained.  
The early Cock did summon but in vain▪  
My wakeful thoughts up to my painful gain:  
My weary Beast rest from his toil can find,  
But if I rest the more distressed my mind.  
If happiness my sordidness hath found,  
'Twas in the Crop of my manured ground.  
My thriving Cattle and my new-milch-Cow,  
My fleeced Sheep, and fruitful farrowing Sow:  
To greater things I never did aspire,  
My dunghill thoughts or hopes could reach no higher.  
If to be rich or great it was my fate,  
How was I broiled with envy and with hate?  
Greater than was the great'st was my desire,  
And thirst for honour, set my heart on fire:  
And by Ambition's sails I was so carried,  
That over Flats and sands, and Rocks I hurried,  
Oppressed and sunk, and staved all in my way  
That did oppose me, to my longed Bay.  
My thirst was higher than nobility,  
I oft lo●g'd sore to taste on Royalty:  
Then Kings must be deposed or put to flight,  
I might possess that Throne which was their right;  
There set, I rid myself strait out of hand  
Of such Competitors, as might in time withstand.  
Then thought my state firm founded sure to last,  
But in a trice 'tis ruined by a blast,  
Though cemented with more than noble blood,  
The bottom nought, and so no longer stood.  
Sometimes vain glory is the only bait  
Whereby my empty Soul is lured and caught.  
Be I of wit, of learning, and of parts,  
I judge I should have room in all men's hearts,  
And envy gnaws if any do surmount,  
I hate, not to be held in highest account.  
If Bias like I'm stripped unto my skin,  
I glory in my wealth I have within.  
Thus good and bad, and what I am you see,  
Now in a word, what my diseases be.  
The vexing stone in bladder and in reins,  
The Strangury torments me with sore pains.  
The windy Colic oft my bowels rend,  
To break the darksome prison where it's penned.  
The Cramp and Gout doth sadly torture me,  
And the restraining, lame Sciatica.  
The Astma, Megrim, Palsy, Lethargy,  
The quartan Ague, dropsy, Lunacy:  
Subject to all distempers (that's the truth)  
Though some more incident, to Age or Youth.  
And to conclude, I may not tedious be,  
Man at his best estate is vanity.   

Old Age.  
What you have been, even such have I before·  
And all you say, say I, and somewhat more.  
Babes innocence, youth's wildness I have seen,  
And in perplexed middle Age have been:  
Sickness, dangers, and anxieties have past,  
And on this stage am come to act my last.  
I have been young and ●rong and wise as you:  
But now Bis pueri sene●, is too true.  
In every Age I've found much vanity,  
An end of all perfection now I see.  
It's not my valour, honour, nor my gold,  
My ruin'd house now falling can uphold,  
It's not my learning Rhetoric wit so large,  
Hath now the power, death's warfare to discharge▪  
It's not my goodly state, nor bed of down  
That can refresh, or ease if Conscience frown.  
Nor from Alliance can I now have hope,  
But what I have done well, that is my prop;  
He that in youth is godly, wise and sage,  
Provides a staff then to support his Age.  
Mutations great, some joyful and some sad,  
In this short pilgrimage I oft have had.  
Sometimes the Heavens with plenty smiled on me  
Sometime again reigned all Adversity.  
Sometimes in honour, sometimes in disgrace,  
Sometime an Ab●●ct, then again in place.  
Such private changes oft mine eyes have seen,  
In various times of state I've also been.  
I've seen a Kingdom flourish like a tree,  
When it was ruled by that Celestial she;  
And like a Cedar, others so surmount:  
That but for shrubs they did themselves account.  
Then saw I France and Holland, saved Cales won,  
And Philip and Albertus half undone.  
I saw all peace at home, terror to foes,  
But ah, I saw at last those eyes to close,  
And then methought the day at noon grew dark  
When it had lost that radiant Sunlike Spark:  
In midst of griefs I saw our hopes revive,  
(For 'twas our hopes then kept our hearts alive)  
We changed our queen for king under whose rays  
We joyed in many blessed and prosperous days.  
I've seen a Prince, the glory of our land  
In prime of youth seized by heavens angry hand,  
Which filled our hearts with fears, with tears our eyes,  
Wailing his fate & our own destinies.  
I've seen from Rome an execrable thing,  
A Plot to blow up Nobles and their King,  
But saw their horrid fact soon disappointed,  
And Land & Nobles saved with their anointed.  
I've Princes seen to live on others lands;  
A royal one by gifts from strangers hands  
Admired for their magnanimity,  
Who lost a Princedom and a Monarchy.  
I've seen designs for Ree and Rochel crossed,  
And poor Palatinate for ever lost  
I've seen unworthy men advanced high,  
(And better ones suffer extremity)  
But neither favour, riches, title, State,  
Can length their days or once reverse their fate  
I've seen one stabbed, and some to lose their heads  
And others fly, struck both with gilt and dread.  
I've seen and so have you▪ for 'tis but late,  
The desolation of a goodly State,  
Plotted and acted so that none can tell,  
Who gave the counsel, but the Prince of hell,  
Three hundred thousand slaughtered innocents',  
By bloody Popish, hellish miscreants:  
Oh may you live, and so you will I trust  
To see them swill in blood until they burst.  
I've seen a King by force thrust from his throne,  
And an Usurper subtly mount thereon.  
I've seen a state unmoulded rend in twain,  
But ye may live to see't made up again.  
I've seen it plundered, taxed and soaked in blood,  
But out of evil you may see much good.  
What are my thoughts, this is no time to say.  
Men may more freely speak another day.  
These are no oldwives tales, but this is truth,  
We old men love to tell what's done in youth.  
But I return from whence I stepped awry,  
My memory is bad, my brain is dry:  
Mine Almond tree, grey hairs, do flourish now,  
And back once strait, apace gins to bow:  
My grinders now are few, my sight doth ●ail,  
My skin is wrinkled, and my cheeks are pale,  
No more rejoice at music's pleasing noise,  
But waking glad to hear the cocks shrill voice:  
I cannot scent savours of pleasant meat,  
Nor sapours find in what I drink or eat:  
My arms and hands once strong have lost their might  
I cannot labour, much less can I fight.  
My comely legs as nimble as the Roe  
Now stiff and numb, can hardly creep or go,  
My heart sometimes as fierce as Lion bold,  
Now trembling is, all fearful sad and cold;  
My golden Bowl and silver Cord e'er long  
Shall both be broke, by racking death so strong:  
Then shall I go whence I shall come no more,  
Sons, Nephews leave my farewell to deplore.  
In pleasures and in labours I have found  
That Earth can give no consolation found;  
To great to rich to poor▪ to young to old,  
To mean to noble, fearful or to bold:  
From King to beggar all degrees shall find  
But vanity vexation of the mind.  
Yea knowing much the pleasants' life of all,  
Hath yet among those sweets some bitter gall;  
Though reading others works doth much refresh,  
Yet studying much brings weariness to th' flesh:  
My studies, labours readings all are done,  
And my last period now even almost run.  
Corruption my Father I do call▪  
Mother and Sisters both, the worms that crawl  
In my dark house such kindred I have store,  
Where I shall rest till heavens shall be no more,  
And when this flesh shall rot and be consumed,  
This body by this Soul shall be assumed:  
And I shall see with these same very eyes,  
My strong Redeemer coming in the Skies.  
Triumph I shall o'er sin, o'er death, o'er Hell,  
And in that hope I bid you all farewell.    

The four Seasons of the Year.  

Spring.  
ANother four I've left yet to bring on,  
Of four times four the last Quaternion,  
The Winter, Summer, Autumn & the Spring,  
In season all these Seasons I shall bring:  
Sweet Spring like man in his Minority,  
At present claimed, and had priority.  
With smiling face and garments somewhat green,  
She trimmed her locks, which late had frosted been,  
Nor hot nor cold, she spoke, but with a breath,  
Fit to revive, the numbed earth from death.  
Three months (quoth she) are ' lotted to my share  
March, April, May of all the rest most fair.  
Tenth of the first, Sol into Aries enters,  
And bids defiance to all tedious winters,  
Crosseth the Line, and equals night and day,  
Still adds to th' last till after pleasant May  
And now makes glad the darkened northern wights  
Who for some months have seen but starry lights.  
Now goes the Ploughman to his merry toil,  
He might unloose his winter locked soil:  
The Seedsman too, doth lavish out his grain,  
In hope the more he casts, the more to gain:  
The Gardener now superfluous branches lops,  
And poles erects for his young clambering hops.  
Now digs then sows his herbs, his flowers & root●  
And carefully manure his trees of fruits.  
The Pleiades their influence now give,  
And all that seemed as dead afresh doth live.  
The croaking frogs, whom nipping winter killed  
Like birds now chirp, and hop about the field,  
The Nightingale the blackbird and the thrush  
Now tune their lays, on sprays of every bush.  
The wanton frisking Kid, and soft-fleeced Lambs  
Do jump and play before their feeding Dams,  
The tender tops of budding grass they crop,  
They joy in what they have, but more in hope:  
For though the frost hath lost his binding power,  
Yet many a fleece of snow and stormy shower  
Doth darken Sol's bright eye, makes us remember  
The pinching Northwest wind of cold December,  
My second month is April, green and fair,  
Of longer days, and a more temperate Air:  
The Sun in Taurus keeps his residence,  
And with his warmer beams glanceth from thence  
This is the month whose fruitful showers produces  
All set and sown for all delights and uses:  
The Pear the Plum, and Appletree now flourish  
The grass grows long the hungry beast to nourish.  
The Primrose pale, and azure violet  
Among the virtuous grass hath nature set,  
That when the Sun on's Love (the earth) doth shine  
These might as lace set out her garment fine.  
The fearful bird his little house now builds  
In trees and walls, in Cities and in fields.  
The outside strong, the inside warm and neat;  
A natural Artificer complete.  
The clocking hen her chirping chickens leads  
With wings & beak defends them from the gleads  
My next and last is fruitful pleasant May,  
Wherein the earth is clad in rich array,  
The Sun now enters loving Gemini,  
And heats us with the glances of his eye,  
Our thicker raiment makes us lay aside  
Lest by his fervour we be torrified.  
All flowers the Sun now with his beams discloses,  
Except the double pinks and matchless Roses.  
Now swarms the busy, witty, honey-Bee,  
Whose praise deserves a page from more than me  
The cleanly Huswives Da●y's now in th' prime,  
Her shelves and firkins filled for winter time.  
The meads with Cowslips, Honey-suckles dight,  
One hangs his head, the other stands upright:  
But both rejoice at th' heavens clear smiling face,  
More at her showers, which water them a space.  
For fruits my Season yields the early Cherry,  
The hasty Peas, and wholesome cool Strawberry.  
More solid fruits require a longer time,  
Each Season hath his fruit so hath each Clime:  
Each man his own peculiar excellence,  
But none in all that hath pre-eminence.  
Sweet fragrant Spring, with thy short pittance fly  
Let some describe thee better than can I.  
Yet above all this privilege is thine,  
Thy days still lengthen without least decline.   

Summer.  
When Spring had done, the Summer did begin,  
With melted tawny face, and garments thin,  
Resembling Fire, Choler, and Middle age,  
As Spring did Air, Blood, Youth in's equipage.  
Wiping the sweat from of her face that ran,  
With hair all wet she puffing thus began;  
Bright June, July and August hot are mi●e,  
Inth' first Sol doth in crabbed Cancer shine.  
His progress to the North now's fully done,  
Then retrograde must be my burning Sun,  
Who to his southward Tropic still is bend,  
Yet doth his parching heat but more augment  
Though he decline, because his flames so fair,  
Have throughly dried the earth, and heat the air.  
Like as an Oven that long time hath been heat,  
Whose vehemency at length doth grow so great,  
That if you do withdraw her burning store,  
'tis for a time as fervent as before.  
Now go those frolic Swains, the Shepherd Lads  
To wash the thick clothed flocks with pipes full glad  
In the cool streams they labour with delight  
Rubbing their dirty coats till they look white:  
Whose fleece when finely spun and deeply died  
With Robes thereof Kings have been dignified.  
Blessed rustic Swains, your pleasant quiet life,  
Hath envy bred in Kings that were at strife,  
Careless of worldly wealth you sing and pipe,  
Whilst they're embroiled in wars & troubles rise:  
Which made great Bajazet cry out in's woes,  
Oh happy shepherd which hath not to lose.  
Orthobulus, nor yet Sebastia great,  
But whist'leth to thy flock in cold and heat.  
Viewing the Sun by day, the Moon by night  
Endymion's, Diana's dear delight,  
Upon the grass resting your healthy limbs,  
By purling Brooks looking how fishes swims.  
If pride within your lowly Cells ere haunt,  
Of him that was Shepherd then King go vaunt.  
This month the Roses are distilled in glasses,  
Whose fragrant smell all made perfumes surpasses  
The Cherry, Gooseberry are now in th' prime,  
And for all sorts of Pease, this is the time.  
July my next, the hott'st in all the year,  
The sun through Leo now takes his Career,  
Whose flaming breath doth melt us from afar,  
Increased by the star Canicular.  
This Month from Julius Caesar took its name,  
By Romans celebrated to his fame.  
Now go the Mower's to their slashing toil,  
The Meadows of their riches to despoil,  
With weary strokes, they take all in their way,  
Bearing the burning ●eat of the long day.  
The forks and Rakes do follow them amain,  
Which makes the aged fields look young again.  
The groaning Carts do bear away this prize.  
To Stacks and Barns where it for Fodder lies.  
My next and last is August fiery hot  
(For much, the Southward Sun abateth not)  
This Month he keeps with Virgo for a space,  
The dried Earth is parched with his face.  
August of great Augustus took its name,  
Rome's second Emperor of lasting fame,  
With sickles now the bending Reapers go  
The rustling tress of terra down to mow;  
And bundles up in sheaves, the weighty wheat,  
Which after Manchet makes for Kings to eat:  
The Barley, Rye and Pease should first had place,  
Although their bread have not so white a face.  
The Carter leads all home with whistling voice,  
He ploughed with pain, but reaping doth rejoice;  
His sweat, his toil, his careful wakeful nights,  
His fruitful Crop abundantly requites.  
Now's ripe the Pear, Pear-plumb, and Apricock,  
The prince of plumbs, whose stone's as hard as Rock  
The Summer seems but short, the Autumn hasts  
To shake his fruits, of most delicious tastes  
Like good old Age, whose younger juicy Roots  
Hath still ascended, to bear goodly fruits.  
Until his head be grey, and strength be gone.  
Yet then appears the worthy deeds he ' th' done:  
To feed his boughs exhausted hath his sap,  
Then drops his fruits into the eaters lap.   

Autumn.  
Of Autumn months September is the prime,  
Now day and night are equal in each Clime,  
The twelfth of this Sol riseth in the Line,  
And doth in poizing Libra this month shine.  
The vintage now is ripe, the grapes are pressed,  
Whose lively liquor oft is cursed and blest:  
For nought so good, but it may be abused,  
But it's a precious juice when well it's used.  
The raisins now in clusters dried be,  
The Orange, Lemon dangle on the tree:  
The Pomegranate, the Fig are ripe also,  
And Apples now their yellow sides do show.  
Of Almonds, Quinces, Wardens, and of Peach,  
The season's now at hand of all and each.  
Sure at this time, time first of all began,  
And in this month was made apostate Man:  
For then in Eden was not only seen,  
Boughs full of leaves, or fruits unripe or green,  
Or withered stocks, which were all dry and dead,  
But trees with goodly fruits replenished;  
Which shows nor Summer Winter nor the Spring  
Our Grandsire was of Paradise made King:  
Nor could that temperate Clime such difference make,  
If scited as the most Judicious take.  
October is my next, we hear in this  
The Northern winter-blasts begin to hiss.  
In Scorpio resideth now the Sun,  
And his declining heat is almost done.  
The fruitless Trees all withered now do stand,  
Whose sapless yellow leavs, by winds are fanned,  
Which notes when youth and strength have past their prime  
Decrepit age must also have its time.  
The Sap doth slily creep towards the Earth  
There rests, until the Sun give it a birth.  
So doth old Age still tend unto his grave,  
Where also he his winter time must have;  
But when the Sun of righteousness draws nigh,  
His dead old stock, shall mount again on high.  
November is my last, for Time doth haste,  
We now of winter's sharpness begins to taste.  
This month the Sun's in Sagitarius.  
So fare remote, his glances warm not us.  
Almost at shortest is the horrened day,  
The Northern pole beholde●h not one ray.  
Now Gre●nland, Groanland, Finland, Lapland, see  
No Sun, to lighten their obscurity:  
Poor wretches that in total darkness lie,  
With minds more dark than is the darkened Sky.  
Beaf, Brawn and Pork are now in great request,  
And solid meats our stomaches can digest.  
This time warm clothes, full diet and good fires,  
Our pinched flesh, and hungry maws requires:  
Old, cold, dry Age and Earth Autumn resembles,  
And Melancholy which most of all dissembles.  
I must be short, and shorts, the short'ned day,  
What winter hath to tell, now let him say.   

Winter.  

Cold, moist, young flegmy winter now doth lie  
In swaddling Clouts, like new born Infancy  
Bound up with frosts, and furred with hail & snows,  
And like an Infant, still it taller grows;  
December is my First, and now the Sun  
To th' Southward Tropic his swift race doth run:  
This month he's housed in horned Capricorn.  
From thence he begins to length the shortened morn,  
Through Christendom with great Feastivity,  
Now's held; (but guest) for blessed Nativity.  
Cold frozen January next comes in,  
Chilling the blood and shrinking up the skin;  
In Aquarius now keeps the long wished Sun,  
And Northward his unwearied Course doth run:  
The day much longer than it was before,  
The cold not lessened, but augmented more.  
Now Toes and Ears, and Fingers often freeze,  
And Travellers their noses sometimes lose.  
Moist snowy February is my last,  
I care not how the winter time doth haste,  
In Pisces now the golden Sun doth shine.  
And Northward still approaches to the Line,  
The Rivers begin to open, the snows to melt,  
And some warm glances from his face are felt,  
Which is increased by the lengthened day,  
Until by's heat, he drive all cold away,  
And thus the year in Circle runneth round:  
Where first it did begin, in th' end its found.    


My Subjects bare, my Brain is bad,  
Or better Lines you should have had:  
The first fell in so naturally,  
I knew not how to pass it by;  
The last, though bad, I could not mend,  
Accept therefore of what is penned,  
And all the faults that you shall spy  
Shall at your feet for pardon cry.     

The four Monarchies, the Assyrian being the first, beginning under Nimrod, 131. Years after the Flood,  
WHen time was young, & World in Infancy,  
Man did not proudly strive for Sovereignty:  
But each one thought his petty Rule was high,  
If of his house he held the Monarchy.  
This was the golden Age, but after came  
The boisterous son of Chus, Grandchild to ●am,  
That mighty Hunter, who in his strong toils  
Both Beasts and Men subjected to his spoils:  
The strong foundation of proud Babel laid,  
Erech, Accad, and Culneh also made.  
These were his first, all stood in Shinar land,  
From thence he went Assyria to command,  
And mighty Niniveh, he there begun,  
Not finished till he his race had run.  
Resen, Caleh, and Rehoboth likewise  
By him to Cities eminent did rise.  
Of Saturn, he was the Original.  
Whom the succeeding times a God did call,  
When thus with rule, he had been dignified,  
One hundred fourteen years he after died.  

Belus.  
Great Nimrod dead, Belus the next his Son  
Confirms the rule, his Father had begun;  
Whose acts and power is not for certainty  
Left to the world, by any History.  
But yet this blot for ever on him lies,  
He taught the people first to Idolise:  
Titles Divine he to himself did take,  
Alive and dead, a God they did him make.  
This is that Bell the Chaldees worshipped,  
Whose Priests in Stories oft are mentioned;  
This is that Baal to whom the Israelites  
So oft profanely offered sacred Rites:  
This is Beelzebub God of Ekronites,  
Likewise Baalpeor of the Mohabites,  
His reign was short, for as I calculate,  
At twenty five ended his Regal date.   

Ninus.  
His father dead, Nirus gins his reign,  
Transfers his seat to the Assyrian plain;  
And mighty Nineveh more mighty made,  
Whose Foundation was by his Grandsire laid.  
Four hundred forty Furlongs walled about,  
On which stood fifteen hundred Towers stout.  
The walls one hundred sixty foot upright,  
So broad three Chariots run a breast there might.  
Upon the pleasant banks of Tigris flood  
This stately Seat of warlike Ninus stood:  
This Ninus for a God his Father canonised,  
To whom the sottish people sacrificed.  
This Tyrant did his Neighbours all oppress,  
Where e'er he warred he had too good success.  
Barzanes the great A●m●nia● King  
By force and fraud did under Tribute bring.  
The Median Country he did also gain,  
Thernus their King he caused to be slain;  
An Army of three millions heeled out  
Against the Bactrians (but that I doubt)  
Zor●aster their King he likewise flew,  
And all the greater Asia did subdue.  
Semiramis from Menon did he take  
Then drowned himself, did Menon for her sake.  
Fifty two years he reigned, (as we are told)  
The world than was two thousand nineteen old.   

Semiramis.  
This great oppressing Ninus, dead and gone,  
His wife Semiramis usurped the Throne;  
She like a brave Virago played the Rex  
And was both shame and glory of her Sex:  
Her birth place was Philistines Ascolan,  
Her mother Dorceta a Courtesan.  
Others report she was a vestal Nun,  
Adjudged to be drowned for th' crime she'd done.  
Transformed into a Fish by Venus' will,  
Her beauteous face, (they feign) retaining still.  
Sure from this Fiction Dagon first began,  
Changing the woman's face into a man:  
But all agree that from no lawful bed,  
This great renowned Empress issued:  
For which she was obscurely nourished,  
Whence r●se that Fable, she by birds was fed.  
This gallant Dame unto the Bactrian war,  
Accompanying her husband Menon far,  
Taking a town, such valour she did show,  
That Ninus amorous of her soon did grow,  
And thought her fit to make a Monarch's wife,  
Which was the cause poor Menon lost his life:  
She flourishing with Ninus long did reign,  
Till her Ambition caused him to be slain.  
That having no Compeer, she might rule all,  
Or else she sought revenge for Menon's fall.  
Some think the Greeks this slander on her cast,  
As on her life Licentious, and unchaste,  
That undeserved, they blurred her name and fame  
By their aspersions, cast upon the same:  
But were her virtues more or less, or none,  
She for her potency must go alone.  
Her wealth she shewed in building Babylon,  
Admired of all, but equalised of none;  
The Walls so strong, and curiously was wrought,  
That after Ages, Skill by them was taught:  
With Towers and Bulwarks made of costly stone,  
Quadrangle was the form it stood upon▪  
Each Square was fifteen thousand paces long,  
An hundred gates it had of metal strong:  
Three hundred sixty foot the walls in height,  
Almost incredible, they were in breadth  
Some writers say, six Chariots might affront  
With great facility, march sa●e upon't:  
About the Wall a ditch to deep and wide,  
That like a River long it did abide.  
Three hundred thousand men here day by day  
Bestowed their ●abour, and received their pay.  
And that which did all cost and A●t excel,  
The wondrous Temple was, she reared to Bell:  
Which in the midst of this brave Town was placed,  
Continuing till Xerxes it defaced:  
Whose stately top above the Clouds did rise,  
From whence Astrologers oft viewed the Skies.  
This to describe in each particular,  
A structure rare I should but rudely mar.  
Her Gardens, Bridges, Arches, mounts and spires  
All eyes that saw, or Ears that hear admires,  
In Shinar plain on the Euphratian flood  
This wonder of the world, this Babel stood.  
An expedition to the East she made  
Staurobates, his Country to invade:  
Her Army of four millions did consist,  
Each may believe it as his fancy list.  
Her Camels, Chariots, Galleys in such number,  
As puzzles best Historians to remember;  
But this is wonderful, of all those men,  
They say, but twenty e'er came back again.  
The River Judas swept them half away,  
The rest S●●urobates in fight did slay;  
This was last progress of this mighty Queen,  
Who in her Country never more was seen.  
The Poets feigned her turned into a Dove,  
Leaving the world to Venus soared above:  
Which made the Assyrians many a day,  
A Dove within their Ensigns to display:  
Forty two years she reigned, and then she died  
But by what means we are not certified.   

Ninias or Zamies.  
His Mother dead, Ninias obtains his right,  
A Pr●nce wedded to ease and to delight,  
Or else was his obedience very great,  
To sit thus long (obscure) robbed of his Seat.  
Some writ his Mother put his habit on,  
Which made the people think they served her Son.  
But much it is, in more than forty years  
This fraud in war nor peace at all appears:  
More like it is his lust with pleasures fed,  
He sought no rule till she was gone and dead.  
What then he did of worth can no man tell,  
But is supposed to be that Amraphel  
Who warred with Sodoms and Gomorrahs' King,  
'Gainst whom his trained bands Abram did bring,  
But this is fare unlike, he being Son  
Unto a Father that all Countries won  
So suddenly should lose so great a state,  
With petty Kings to join Confederate.  
Nor can those Reasons which wise Raileih finds,  
Well satisfy the most considerate minds:  
We may with learned Usher better say,  
He many Ages lived after that day.  
And that Semiramis then flourished  
When famous Troy was so beleaguered:  
What e'er he was, or did, or how it fell▪  
We may suggest our thoughts but cannot tell.  
For Ninias and all his race are left  
In deep oblivion, of acts bereft:  
And many hundred years in silence sit,  
Save a few Names a new B●rosu● writ.  
And such as care not what befalls their fames,  
May feign as many acts as he did Names;  
It may suffice, if all be true that's past.  
T' Sardanapalas next, we will make haste.   

Sardanapalas  
Sardanapalas, Son to Ocrazapes,  
Who wallowed in all voluptuousness,  
That palliardizing sot that out of doors,  
ne'er showed his face but revealed with his whores  
Did wear their garbs, their gestures imitate,  
And in their kind, t● excel did emulate.  
His baseness knowing, and the people's hate  
Kept close, fearing his well deserved fate;  
It chanced Arbaces brave unwarily,  
His Master like a Strumpet clad did spy.  
His manly heart disdained (in the least)  
Longer to serve this Metamorphosed Beast;  
Unto Belosus then he broke his mind,  
Who sick of his disease, ●e soon did find  
These two, ruled Media and Babylon  
Both for their King, held their Dominion;  
Belosus promised Arbaces aid▪  
Arbaces him fully to be repaid.  
The last The Medes and Persians do invite  
Against their monstrous King▪ to use their might.  
Belosus, the Chaldeans doth require  
And the Arabians, to further his desire:  
These all agree, and forty thousand make  
The Rule, from their unworthy Prince to take:  
These Forces mustered and in array  
Sardan●pal●s leaves his Apish play.  
And though of wars, he did abhor the sight;  
Fear of his diadem did force him fight.  
And either by his valour or his fate,  
Arbaces Courage he did so abate;  
That in despair, he left the Field and fled,  
But with fresh hopes Belosus succoured,  
From Bactria, an Army was at hand  
Pressed for this Service▪ by the King's Command:  
These with celerity Arbaces meet,  
And with all Terms of amity them greet.  
With promises their necks now to unyoke,  
And their Taxations sore all to revoke;  
T'insranchise them, to grant what they could crave,  
No privilege to want, Subjects should have,  
Only entreats them, to join their Force with his,  
And win the Crown, which was the way to bliss.  
Won by his loving looks, more by his speech,  
T' accept of what they could, they all beseech:  
Both sides their hearts their hands, & bands unite,  
And set upon their Prince's Camp that night;  
Who revelling in Cups, sung care away,  
For victory obtained the other day:  
And now surprised, by this unlooked for fright,  
Bereft of wits, were slaughtered down right.  
The King his brother leavs, all to sustain,  
And speeds himself to Niniveh amain.  
But Salmeneus slain, the Army falls;  
The King's pursued unto the City Walls,  
But he once in, pursuers came to late,  
The Walls and Gates their haste did terminate,  
There with all store he was so well provided:  
That what Arbaces did, was but derided:  
Who there encamped, two years for little end,  
But in the third, the River proved his friend,  
For by the rain, was Tigris so o'erflown,  
Part of that stately Wall was overthrown.  
Arbaces marches in the Town he takes,  
For few or none (it seems) resistance makes:  
And now they saw fulfilled a Prophecy,  
That when the River proved their Enemy,  
Their strong walled Town should suddenly be taken  
By this accomplishment, their hearts were shaken.  
Sardanapalas did not seek to fly,  
This his inevitable destiny;  
But all his wealth and friends together gets,  
Then on himself, and them a fire he sets.  
This was last Monarch of great Ninus race  
That for twelve hundred years had held the place;  
Twenty he reigned same time, as Stories tell,  
That A●●z●ah as King of Israel.  
His Father was then King (as we suppose)  
When Jonah for their sins denounced those woes.  
He did repent, the threatening was not done,  
But now accomplished in his wicked Son.  
Arbaces thus of all becoming Lord,  
Ingeniously with all did keep his word.  
Of Babylon Belosus he made King,  
With overplus of all the wealth therein.  
To Bactrians he gave their liberty,  
Of Ninivites he caused none to die.  
But suffered with their goods, to go else where,  
Not granting them now to inhabit there:  
For he demolished that City great,  
And unto Media transferred his Seat.  
Such was his promise which he firmly made,  
To Medes and Persians when he craved their aid:  
A while he and his race aside must stand,  
Not pertinent to what we have in hand;  
And Belochus in's progeny pursue,  
Who did this Monarchy begin anew.   

Belosus or Belochus.  
Belosus settled in his new old Seat,  
Not so content but aiming to be great,  
Encroaching still upon the bordering lands,  
Till Mesopotamia he got in's hands.  
And either by compound or else by strength,  
Assyria he gained also at length;  
Then did rebuild, destroyed Nineveh,  
A costly work which none could do but he,  
Who owned the Treasures of proud Babylon,  
And those that seemed with Sardanapal's gone;  
For though his Palace did in ashes lie,  
The fire those Metals could not damnify▪  
From these with diligence he rakes,  
Arbaces suffers all, and all he takes,  
He thus enriched by this new tried gold.  
Raises a Phoenix new, from grave o'th' old;  
And from this heap did after Ages see  
As fair a Town, as the first Niniveh.  
When this was built, and matters all in peace  
Molests poor Israel, his wealth t' increase.  
A thousand Talents of Mena●em had,  
(Who to be rid of such a guest was glad;)  
In sacred writ he's known by name of Pul.  
Which makes the world of difference so full.  
That he and Belochus could not one be,  
But Circumstance doth prove the verity;  
And times of both computed so fall out,  
That these two made but one, we need not doubt:  
What else he did, his Empire to advance,  
To rest content we must, in ignorance.  
Forty eight years he reigned, his race then run,  
He left his new got Kingdom to his Son.   

Tiglath Pulassar.  
Belosus dead, Tiglath his warlike Son.  
Next treads those steps, by which his Father won;  
Damascus ancient Seat, of famous Kings  
Under subjection, by his Sword he brings.  
Resin their valiant King he also slew,  
And Syri● t' obedience did subdue.  
Judas had King occasioned this war,  
When Resins force his Borders sore did mar,  
And divers Cities by strong hand did seize:  
To Tiglath then, doth Ahaz send for ease,  
The Temple robs, so to fulfil his ends,  
And to Assy●ia's King a present sends.  
I am thy Servant and thy Son, (quoth he)  
From Resin, and from Pekah set me free,  
Gladly doth Tiglath this advantage take,  
And succours Ahaz, yet for Tiglath's sake▪  
Then Resin slain, his Army overthrown,  
He Syria makes a Province of his own.  
Unto Damascus then comes Judah's King,  
His humble thankfulness (in haste) to bring,  
Acknowledging th' assyrians high desert,  
To whom he ought all loyalty o● heart.  
But Tiglath having gained his wished end,  
Proves unto Ah●z but a feigned friend;  
All Israel's lands beyond Jordan he takes,  
In Galilee he woeful havoc makes.  
Through Sy●ia now he marched none stopped his, way  
And Ahaz open at his mercy lay;  
Who still implored his love, but was distressed▪  
This was that Ahaz, who so high transgressed:  
Thus Tiglath reigned, & warred twenty seven years  
Then by his death released was Israel's fears.   

Salmanassar or Nabanassar.  
Tiglath deceased, Salmanassar was next,  
He Israelites, more than his Father vexed▪  
H●●he● their last King he did invade,  
And him six years his Tributary made;  
But weary of his servitude, he sought  
To Egypt King, which did avail him nought;  
For Salm●nassar with a mighty Host,  
Besieged his Regal Town, and spoiled his Coast,  
And did the people, nobles, and their King,  
Into perpetual thraldom that time bring;  
Those that from Joshuah's time had been a state, 1● years.  
Did Justice now by him eradicate:  
This was that strange, degenerated brood,  
On whom▪ nor threats, nor mercies could do good;  
Laden with honour, prisoners▪ and with spoil,  
Returns triumphant Victor to his soil;  
He placed Israel there, where he thought best,  
Then sent his Colonies, theirs to invest;  
Thus jacob's Sons in Exile must remain,  
And pleasant Canaan never saw again:  
Where now those ten Tribes are, can no man tell,  
Or how they far, rich, poor, or ill or well;  
Whether the Indians of the East, or West,  
Or wild Tartarians, as yet ne'er blest.  
Or else those Chinoes rare, whose wealth & arts  
Hath bred more wonder than belief in hearts:  
But what, or where they are; yet know we this,  
They shall return, and Zion see with bliss.   

Senacherib.  
Senacherib Salmanasser succeeds,  
Whose haughty heart is shown in words & deeds  
His wars; none better than himself can boast,  
On Henah, Arpad, and on Juahs' coast;  
On Hevahs and on Shepharvaims' gods,  
'Twixt them and Israel's he knew no odds,  
Until the thundering hand of heaven he felt,  
Which made his Army into nothing melt:  
With shame then turned to Ninive again,  
And by his sons in's Idols house was slain.   

Essarhadon.  
His Son, weak Essarhaddon reigned in's place▪  
The fifth, and last of great Bellosus race.  
Brave Merodach, the Son of Baladan,  
In Babylon Lieutenant to this man  
Of opportunity advantage takes,  
And on his Master's ruins his house makes.  
As Belosus his Sovereign did onthrone,  
So he's now styled the King of Babylon.  
After twelve years did Essarhaddon die,  
And Merodach assume the Monarchy.   

Merodach Balladan.  
All yield to him, but Niniveh kept free,  
Until his Grandchild made her bow the knee.  
Ambassadors to Hezekiah sent,  
His health congratulates with compliment.   

Ben Merodach.  
Ben Merodach Successor to this King,  
Of whom is little said in any thing.  
But by conjecture this, and none but he  
Led King Manasseh to Captivity.   

Nebulassar.  
Brave Nebulassar to this King was son,  
The famous Niniveh by him was won,  
For fifty years, or more, it had been free,  
Now yields her neck unto captivity:  
A Viceroy from her foe she's glad to accept,  
By whom in firm obedience she is kept.  
This King's less famed for all the acts he's done,  
Then being Father to so great a Son.   

Nabuchadnezzar, or Nebopolassar.  
The famous acts of this heroic King  
Did neither Homer, Hesiod, Virgil sing;  
Nor of his Wars have we the certainty  
From some Thucydides grave history,  
Nor's Metamorphosis from Ovid's book,  
Nor his restoriag from old Legends took▪  
But by the Prophets, Penmen most divine,  
This prince in's magnitude doth ever shine  
This was of Monarchies that head of gold,  
The richest and the dread fullest to behold:  
This was that tree whose branches filled the earth,  
Under whose shadow birds and beasts had birth:  
This was that king of kings did what he pleased,  
Killed, saved pulled down, set up, or pained or eased;  
And this was he, who when he feared the least  
Was changed from a King into a beast.  
This Prince the last year of his father's reign  
Against Jehojakim marched with his train,  
Judah's poor King besieged and succourless  
Yields to his mercy, and the present' opress;  
His Vassal is, giveth pledges for his truth,  
Children of royal blood, unblemished youth:  
Wise Daniel and his fellows, mongst the rest,  
By the victorious king to Babel's pressed:  
The Temple of rich ornaments defaced,  
And in his Idols house the vessels placed.  
The next year he with unresisted hand  
Quite vanquished Pharaoh Necho with his band:  
By great Euphrates did his army fall,  
Which was the loss of Syria withal.  
Then into Egypt Necho did retire,  
Which in few years proves the Assyrians hire.  
A mighty army next he doth prepare,  
And unto wealthy Tyre in haste repair.  
Such was the situation of this place,  
As might not him, but all the world outface,  
That in her pride she knew not which to boast  
Whether her wealth, or yet her strength was most  
How in all merchandise she did excel,  
None but the true Ezekiel need to tell.  
And for her strength, how hard she was to gain,  
Can Babel's tired soldiers tell with pain.  
Within an Island had this city seat,  
Divided from the Main by channel great:  
Of costly ships and Galleys she had store,  
And Mariners to handle sail and oar:  
But the Chaldeans had nor ships nor skill,  
Their shoulders must their Master's mind fulfil,  
Fetched rubbish from the opposite old town,  
And in the channel threw each burden down;  
Where after many essays, they made at last  
The sea firm land, whereon the Army past,  
And took the wealthy town; but all the gain,  
Requited not the loss, the toil and pain.  
●ull thirteen years in this strange work he spent  
Before he could accomplish his intent:  
And though a Victor home his Army leads,  
With peeled shoulders, and with balded heads.  
When in the Tyrian war this King was hot,  
Jehojakim his oath had clean forgot,  
Thinks this the fittest time to break his bands  
Whilst Babel's King thus deep engaged stands:  
But he whose fortunes all were in the ebb,  
Had all his hopes like to a spider's web;  
For this great King withdraws part of his force,  
To Judah marches with a speedy course,  
And unexpected finds the feeble Prince  
Whom he chastised thus for his proud offence,  
Fast bound, intends to Babel him to send,  
But changed his mind, & caused his life there end,  
Then cast him out like to a naked Ass,  
For this is he for whom none said alas.  
His son he suffered three months to reign,  
Then from his throne he plucked him down again,  
Whom with his mother he to Babel led,  
And seven and thirty years in prison fed:  
His Uncle he established in his place  
(Who was last King of holy David's race)  
But he as perjured as Jehojakim,  
They lost more now then ere they lost by him.  
Seven years he kept his faith, and safe he dwells;  
But in the eighth against his Prince rebels:  
The ninth came Nabuchadnezzar with power,  
Besieged his city, temple, Zions' tower,  
And after eighteen months he took them all:  
The Walls so strong, that stood so long, now fall.  
The cursed King by flight could no wise fly  
His well deserved and foretold misery:  
But being caught to Babel's wrathful King  
With children, wives and Nobles all they bring,  
Where to the sword all but himself were put,  
And with that woeful sight his eyes close shut.  
Ah! hapless man, whose darksome contemplation  
Was nothing but such ghastly meditation.  
In midst of Babel now till death he lies;  
Yet as was told ne'er saw it with his eyes.  
The Temple's burnt the vessels had away.  
The towers and palaces brought to decay:  
Where late of harp and Lute were heard the noise  
Now Zim & Jim lift up their scrieching voice.  
All now of worth are Captive led with tears,  
And sit bewailing Zion seventy years.  
With all these conquests, Babel's King rests not,  
No not when Moab, Edom he had got,  
Kedar and Hazar, the Arabians too,  
All Vassals at his hands for Grace must sue.  
A total conquest of rich Egypt makes,  
All rule he from the ancient Phraohes takes,  
Who had for sixteen hundred years born sway,  
To Babylon's proud King now yields the day.  
Then Put and Lud do at his mercy stand.  
Where e'er he goes, he conquers every land.  
His sumptuous buildings passes all conceit,  
Which wealth and strong ambition made so great.  
His Image Judah's Captives worship not,  
Although the Furnace be seven times more hot.  
His dreams wise Daniel doth expound full well,  
And his unhappy change with grief foretell.  
Strange melancholy humours on him lay,  
Which for seven years his reason took away,  
Which from no natural causes did proceed.  
But for his pride, so had the heavens decreed.  
The time expired, brutish remains no more,  
But Government resumes as heretofore:  
In splendour, and in Majesty he sits,  
Contemplating those times he lost his wits.  
And if by words we may guess at the ●eart,  
This king among the righteous had a part:  
Forty four years he reigned, which being run,  
He left his wealth and conquests to his son.   

Evilmerodach  
Babel's great Monarch now laid in the dust,  
His son possesses wealth and rule as just:  
And in the first year of his Royalty  
Easeth Jehojakims Captivity:  
Poor forlorn Prince, 〈◊〉 had all state forgot  
In seven and thirty years had seen no jot.  
Among the conquered Kings that there did lie  
Is Judah's King now lifted up on high:  
But yet in Babel he must still remain,  
And native Canaan never see again:  
Unlike his Father Evilmerodach,  
Prudence and magnanimity did lack;  
Fair Egypt is by his remissness lost,  
Arabia, and all the bordering coast.  
Wars with the Medes unhappily he waged  
(Within which broils rich Croesus was engaged)  
His Army routed, and himself there slain:  
His Kingdom to Belshazzar did remain.   

Belshazzar.  
Unworthy Belshazzar next wears the crown,  
Whose acts profane a sacred Pen sets down,  
His lust and crueltyes in stories find,  
A royal State ruled by a brutish mind.  
His life so▪ base and dissolute invites  
The noble Persian too invade his rights.  
Who with his own, and Uncle's power anon,  
Lays siege to's Regal Seat, proud Ba●●n,  
The coward King▪ whose strength lay in his walls,  
To banqueting and revelling now falls,  
To show his little dread, but greater store,  
To cheer his friends▪ and scorn his foes the more.  
The holy vessels thither brought long since,  
They carrowsed in▪ and sacrilegious prince  
Did praise his Gods of metal, wood, and stone,  
Protectors of his Crown, and Babylon,  
But he above, his do did deride,  
And with a hand soon dashed all this pride.  
The King upon the wall casting his eye,  
The fingers of a hand writing did spy,  
Which horrid sight▪ he fears must needs portend  
Destruction to his Crown▪ to●s Person end.  
With quaking knees, and heart appalled he cries,  
For the Soothsayers, and Magicians wise;  
This language strange to read, and to unfold;  
With gifts of Scarlet robe and Chain of gold,  
And highest dignity next to the King,  
To him that could interpret, clear this thing:  
But dumb the gazing Astrologers stand,  
Amazed at the writing, and the hand.  
None answers the affrighted King's intent,  
Who still expects some fearful sad event;  
As dead, alive he sits, as one undone:  
In comes the Queen, to cheer her heartless Son.  
Of Daniel tells, who in his grandsires days  
Was held in more account than now he was.  
D●niel in haste is brought before the King,  
Who doth not flatter, nor once cloak the thing;  
Reminds him of his Grandsire's height and fall,  
And of his own notorious sins withal:  
His Drunkenness, and his profaneness high,  
His pride and sottish gross Idolatry.  
The guilty King with colour pale and dead  
Then hears his Mene and his Tekel read.  
And one thing did worthy a King (though late)  
Performed his word to him that told his fate.  
That night victorious Cyrus took the town,  
Who soon did terminate his life and crown;  
With him did end the race of Baladan:  
And now the Persian Monarchy began.   
The End of the Assyrian Monarchy.   

The Second Monarchy, being the Persian, began under Cyrus, Darius being his Uncle and Father-in-law reigned with him about two years.  
CYrus Cambyses Son of Persia King,  
Whom Lady Mandana did to him bring,  
She daughter unto great Astyages,  
He in descent the seventh from Arbaces.  
Cambyse● was of Achemenes race,  
Who had in Persia the Lieutenants place  
When Sardanapalus was overthrown,  
And from that time had hel● it as his own.  
Cyrus, Darius' Daughter took to wife,  
And so unites two Kingdoms without strife.  
Darius unto Man●a●a was brother.  
Adopts her son for his having no other.  
This is of Cyrus the true pedigree,  
Whose Ancestors were royal in degree;  
His Mother's dream, and Grandsire's cruelty,  
His preservation, in his misery,  
His nourishment afforded by a Bitch,  
Are fit for such, whose ears for Fables itch.  
He in his younger days an Army led,  
Against great Cress●● then of Lydia head;  
Who overcurious of wars event,  
For information to Apollo went:  
And the ambiguous Oracle did trust,  
So overthrown by Cyrus, as was just;  
Who him p●asues to Sardis, takes the Town,  
Where all that dare resist, are slaughtered down;  
Disguised Croesus hoped to scape i'th' throng,  
Who had no might to save himself from wrong;  
But as he passed, his Son who was born dumb,  
With pressing grief and sorrow overcome:  
Among the tumult, bloodshed, and the strife,  
Broke his long silence, cried, spare Croesus' life.  
Croesus' thus known, it was gr●at Cyrus' doom,  
(A hard decree) to ashes he consume;  
Then on a would pile set, where all might eye,  
He Solon, Solon, Solon, thrice did cry.  
The Reason of those words Cyrus' demands,  
Who Solon was? to whom he lifts his hands;  
Then to the King he makes this true report,  
That Solon sometimes at his stately Court,  
His Treasures, pleasures pomp and power d●d see,  
And viewing all, at all nought moved was he:  
That Croesus' angry, urged him to express,  
If ever King equalled his happiness.  
(Quoth he) that man for happy we commend,  
Whose happy life attains an happy end.  
Cyrus' with pity moved, knowing Kings stand,  
Now up and down, as fortune turns her hand,  
Weighing the Age, and greatness of the Prince,  
(His Mother's Uncle) stories do evince:  
Gave him his life, and took him for a friend,  
Did to him still his chief designs commend.  
Next war the restless Cyrus' thought upon,  
Was conquest of the stately Babylon,  
Now triple walled, and moated so about,  
That all the world they need not fear nor doubt;  
To drain this ditch, he many Sluices cut,  
But till convenient time their heads kept shut;  
That night Belshazzar feasted all his rout,  
He cut those banks, and let the River out,  
And to the walls securely marches on,  
Not finding a defendant thereupon;  
Enters the Town, the sottish King he stays,  
Upon Earth's richest spoils his Soldier's preys;  
Here twenty years' provision good he found,  
Forty five miles this City scarce could round;  
This head of Kingdoms Chaldees excellence,  
For Owls and Satyrs made a residence,  
Yet wondrous monuments this stately Queen,  
A thousand years had after to beseen.  
Cyrus doth now the Jewish Captives free,  
An Edict made, the Temple builded be,  
He with his Uncle Daniel sets on high,  
And caused his foes in Lion's Den to die.  
Long after this he 'gainst the Scythians goes,  
And Tomris Son and Army overthrows;  
Which to revenge she hires a mighty power,  
And sets on Cyrus, in a fatal hour;  
There routs his Host, himself she prisoner takes,  
And at one blow (world's head) she headless makes  
The which she bathed, within a But of blood,  
Using such taunting words, as she thought good.  
But Xenopho● reports he died in's bed,  
In honour, peace, and wealth, with a grey head;  
And in his Town of Bassagardes lies,  
Where some long after sought in vain for prize,  
But in his Tomb, was only to be sound  
Two Scythian boys, a Sword and Target round:  
And Alexander coming to the same,  
With honours great, did celebrate his fame.  
Three daughters and two Sons he left behind,  
Ennobled more by birth, then by their mind;  
Thirty two years in all this Prince did reign,  
But eight whilst Babylon, he did retain:  
And though his conquests made the earth to groan,  
Now quiet lies under one marble stone.  
And with an Epitaph, himself did make,  
To show how little Land he then should take.  

Cambyses.  
Cambyses no waves like his noble Sire,  
Yet to enlarge his State had some desire,  
His reign with blood and Incest first gins,  
Then sends to find a Law, for these his sins;  
That Kings with Sister's match, no Law they find,  
But that the Persian King may act his mind:  
He wages war the fifth year of his reign,  
'Gainst Egypt's King, who there by him was slain.  
And all of Royal Blood, that came to hand,  
He seized first of Life and then of Land,  
(But little Narus scaped that cruel sat,  
Who grown a man, resumed again his State.)  
He next to Cyprus sends his bloody Host.  
Who landing soon upon that fruitful Coast,  
Made Evelthon, their King with bended knee,  
To hold his own, of his free Courtesy.  
Their Temple he destroys, not for his Zeal,  
For he would be professed, God of their weal;  
Yea, in his pride, he ventured so fare,  
To spoil the Temple of great Jupiter:  
But as they marched o'er those desert sands,  
The stormed dust overwhelmed his daring bands;  
But scorning thus, by Jove to be outbraved,  
A second Army he had almost graved,  
But vain he found to fight with Elements,  
So left his sacrilegious bold intents.  
The Egyptian Apis than he likewise slew,  
Laughing to scorn, that sottish Calvish Crew:  
If all this heat had been for pious end,  
Cambyses to the Clouds we might commend.  
But he that 'fore the Gods himself prefers,  
Is more profane than gross Idolaters;  
He after this, upon suspicion vain,  
Unjustly caused his brother to be slain.  
Praxaspes into Persia then is sent,  
To act in secret, this his lewd intent:  
His Sister (whom Incestuously he wed,)  
Hearing her harmless brother thus was dead.  
His woeful death with tears did so bemoan,  
That by her husband's charge, she caught her own,  
She with her fruit at once were both undone  
Who would have born a Nephew and a son.  
Oh hellesh husband, brother, uncle, Sire,  
Thy cruelty all ages will admire.  
This strange severity he sometimes used  
Upon a Judge, for taking bribes accused,  
I laid him alive, hung ' up his stuffed skin  
Over his seat, then placed his son therein,  
To whom he gave this in remembrance,  
Like salt must look for the like recompense.  
His cruelty was come unto that height  
He spared nor foe, nor friend, nor favourite.  
'Twould be no pleasure, but a tedious thing  
To tell the facts of this most bloody King,  
Feared of all, but lov●d of few or none,  
All wished his short reign past before 'twas done.  
At last two of his Officers he hears  
Had set one Smerdi● up, of the same years,  
And like in feature to his brother dead,  
Ruling, as they thought best under this head.  
The people ignorant of what was done,  
Obedience yielded as to Cyrus' son.  
Touched with this news to Persia he makes,  
But in the way his sword just vengeance takes,  
Unsheathes, as he his horse mounted on high,  
And with a mortal thrust wounds him i'th' thigh,  
Which ends before begun his homebred war:  
So yields to death, that dreadful Conqueror.  
Grief for his brother's death he did express,  
And more, because he died Issueless.  
The male line of great Cyrus now had end,  
The Female to many Ages did extend.  
A Babylon in Egypt did he make,  
And Mero● built for his fair Sister's sake.  
Eight years he reigned, a short, yet too long time  
Cut off in's wickedness in's strength and prime.   

The inter regnum between Cambyses And Darius Histaspes.  
Childless Cambyses on the sudden dead,  
(The Princes meet, to choose one in his stead,  
Of which the chief was seven, called satraps,  
Who like to Kings, ruled Kingdoms as they please,  
Descended all of Achemenes blood,  
And Kinsmen in account to th' King they stood.  
And first these noble Magis agree upon.  
To thrust th' imposter Smerdis out of Throne:  
Then Forces instantly they raise, and rout  
This King with his Conspirators so stout,  
But yet ' ●ore this was done much blood was shed,  
And two of these great Peers in Field lay dead.  
Some writ that sorely hurt they scaped away,  
But so, or no, sure 'tis they won the day.  
All things in peace and Rebels throughly quelled,  
A Consultation by those States was held,  
What form of government now to erect  
The old, or new, which best, in what respect.  
The greater part declined a Monarchy  
So late crushed by their Prince's tyranny,  
And thought the people would more happy be  
If governed by an Aristocracy:  
But others thought (none of the dullest brain)  
That better one than many tyrant's reign.  
What Arguments they used I know not well,  
Too politic, its like, for me to tell,  
But in conclusion they all agree,  
Out of the seven a Monarch chosen be.  
All envy to avoid, this was thought on  
Upon a green to meet by rising sun,  
And he whose horse before the rest should neigh,  
Of all the Peers should have precedency.  
They all attend on the appointed hour,  
Praying to fortune for a kingly power.  
Then mounting on their snorting coursers proud,  
Darius' lusty Stallion neighed full loud,  
The Nobles all alight, bow to their King,  
And joyful acclamations shrill they ring,  
A thousand times, long live the King they cry,  
Let Tyranny with dead Cambyses die:  
Then all attend him to his royal room:  
Thanks for all this to's crafty stable groom.   

Darius Hystaspes.  
Darius by election made a King,  
His title to make strong omits no thing:  
He two of Cyrus' daughters then doth wed,  
Two of his Nieces takes to Nuptial bed,  
By which he cuts their hopes for future time,  
That by such steps to Kingdoms often climb.  
And now a King ●y marriage choice and blood:  
Three strings to's bow, the least of which is good;  
Yet firmly more, the people's hearts to bind.  
Made wholesome, gentle laws which pleased each mind.  
His courtesy and assability.  
Much gained the hearts of his nobility.  
Yet notwithstanding all he did so well,  
The Babylonians 'gainst their prince rebel.  
An host he raised the city to reduce;  
But men against those walls wore of no use.  
Then brave Zopirus for his masters good,  
His manly face disfigures, spares no blood:  
With his own hands cuts off his ears and nose,  
And with a faithful fraud to th' town he goes,  
tells them how harshly the proud king had dealt,  
That for their sakes his cruelty he felt,  
Desiring of the Prince to raise the siege,  
This violence was done him by his Liege.  
This told, for entrance he stood not long,  
For they believed his nose more than his tongue  
With all the city's strength they him betrust,  
If he command, obey the greatest must.  
When opportunity he saw was sit  
Delivers up the town, and all in it.  
To lose a nose, to win a town's no shame;  
But who dares venture such a stake for th' game  
Then thy disgrace, thine honour's manifold,  
Who doth deserve a statue made of gold.  
Nor can Darius in his Monarchy.  
Scarce find enough to thank thy I yalty:  
Yet o'er thy glory we must cast this vail,  
Thy craft more than thy valour did prevail.  
Darius in the second of his reign  
An Edict for the ●ews published again:  
The Temple to rebuild, for that did rest  
Since Cyrus' time, Cambyses did molest.  
He like a King now grants a Charter large,  
Out of his own revenues bears the charge,  
Gives Sacrifices, wheat, wine oil and salt,  
Threats punishment to him that through default  
Shall let the work or keep back any thing.  
Of what is freely granted by the King:  
And on all Kings he pours out Execrations  
That shall once dare to raze those firm foundations  
They thus backed by the King, in spite of foes  
Built on and prospered till their house they close.  
And in the sixth year of his friendly reign,  
Set up a Temple (though a less) again  
Darius on the Scythians ma●e a war;  
Entering that large and barren Country far:  
A Bridge he made, which served for boat & barge  
O'er Ister fair, with labour and with charge.  
But in that desert 'mongst his barbarous foes  
Sharp wants, not swords, his valour did oppose,  
His Army fought with hunger and with cold,  
Which to assail his royal Camp was bold.  
By these alone his host was pinched so sore,  
He warred defensive, not offensive more.  
The Savages did laugh at his distress,  
Their min●●s by Hiroglyphicks they express,  
A Frog a Mouse, a bird, an arrow sent,  
The King will needs interpret their intent;  
Possession of water, earth and air,  
But wise Gob●●as reads not half so fair:  
(Quoth he) like frogs in water we must dive,  
Or like to mice un●er the earth must live  
Or fly like birds in unknown ways full quick,  
Or Scythian arrows in our sides must stick.  
The King seeing his men and victual spent,  
This fruitless war beg place to repent,  
Returned with little honour, and less gain  
His enemies scarce seen, then much less slain.  
He after this intends Greece to invade,  
But troubles in less Asia him stayed,  
Which hushed he strait so order his affairs,  
For At●a●a an army he prepares;  
But as before, so now with ill success  
Returned with wondrous loss, and honourless.  
Athens perceiving now their desperate state  
Armed all they could, which eleven thousand made  
By brave Miltiades their chief being l●d:  
Darius multitudes before them fled.  
At Marathon this bloody field was fought,  
Where Grecians proved themselves right soldiers stout  
Tho Persians to their galleys post with speed  
Where an Athenian showed a valiant deed,  
Pursues his flying foes then on the sand,  
He stays a launching galley with his hand,  
Which soon cut off, enraged, he with his left,  
Renews his hold, and when of that bereft,  
His whetted teeth he claps in the firm wood,  
Off flies his head, down showers his frolic blood,  
Go Persians, carry home that angry piece,  
As the best Trophy which ye won in Greece,  
Darius' light, yet heavy home returns,  
And for revenge, his heart still restless burns,  
His Queen Atossa Author of this stir,  
For Grecian maids ('tis said) to wait on her.  
She lost her aim, her Husband he lost more,  
His men his coin, his honour and his store;  
And the ensuing year ended his Life,  
('tis thought) through grief of this successless strife  
Thirty six years this noble Prince did reign,  
Then to his second Son did all remain.   

Xerxes,  
Xerxes, Darius, and Atossa's Son,  
Grand child to Cyrus, now sits on the Throne:  
(His eldest brother put beside the place,  
Because this was, first born of Cyrus' race.)  
His Father not so full of lenity,  
As was his Son of pride and cruelty;  
He with his Crown receives a double war,  
The Egyptians to reduce, and Greece to mar,  
The first begun, and finished in such haste,  
None writ by whom, nor how, 'twas over past.  
But for the last, he made such preparation,  
As if to dust, he meant, to grind that nation;  
Yet all his men, and Instruments of slaughter,  
Produced but derision and laughter,  
Sage Artabanus Counsel had he taken,  
And's Cozen young Mardonius forsaken,  
His Soldier's credit, wealth at home had stayed,  
And Greece such wondrous triumphs ne'er had made.  
The first dehorts and lays before his eyes  
His Father's ill success, in's enterprise,  
Against the Scythians and Grecians too,  
What Infamy to's honour did accrue.  
Flattering Mardonius on the other side;  
With conquest of all Europe, feeds his pride:  
Vain Xerxes thinks his counsel hath most wit,  
That his ambitious humour best can fit;  
And by this choice unwarily posts on,  
To present loss, future subversion.  
Although be hasted, yet four years was spent  
In great provisions, for this great intent:  
His Army of all Nations was compounded,  
That the vast Persian government surrounded.  
His Foot was seventeen hundred thousand strong,  
Eight hundred thousand horses to these belong  
His Camels, beasts for carriage numberless,  
For Truth's ashamed, how many to express;  
The charge of all, he severally commended  
To Princes, of the Persian blood descended:  
But the command of these commanders all,  
Unto Mardonius made their General,  
(He was the Son of the fore named Gobrius,  
Who married the Sister of Darius.)  
Such his land Forces were, than next a fleet,  
Of two and twenty thousand Galleys meet  
Man'd with Phoenicians and Pamphylians  
Cipriots, Dorians and Cilicians,  
Lycians, Carians and jonians,  
Eolians and the Helispontines  
Besides the vessels for his transportation,  
Which to three thousand came (by best relation)  
Brave Artemisia, Hallicarnassus Queen  
In person present for his aid was seen,  
Whose Galleys all the rest in neatness pass,  
Save the Z●donians, where Xerxes was:  
But hers she kept still separate from the rest,  
For to command alone, she judged was best.  
O noble Queen, thy valour I commend;  
But pity 'twas thine aid thou here didst lend.  
At Sardis in Lydia, all these do meet,  
Whether rich Pythias comes Xerxes to greet,  
Feasts all this multitude of his own charge,  
Then gives the King a kinglike gift full large,  
Three thousand talents of the purest gold,  
Which mighty sum all wondered to behold:  
Then humbly to the king he makes request,  
One of his five sons there might be released,  
To be to's age a comfort and a stay,  
The other four he freely gave away.  
The king calls for the youth, who being brought,  
Cuts him in twain for whom his Sire besought,  
Then laid his parts on both sides of the way,  
'Twixt which his soldiers marched in good array.  
For his great love is this thy recompense?  
Is this to do like Xerxes or a Prince?  
Thou shame of kings, of men the detestation,  
I Rhetoric want to pour out execration.  
First thing he did thats worthy of recount,  
A Sea passage cut behind Athos mount.  
Next o'er the Hellespont a bridge he made  
Of Boats together coupled, and there laid:  
But winds and waves those iron bands did break,  
To cross the sea such strength he found too weak,  
Then whips the sea, and with a mind most vain  
He fetters cast therein the same to chain.  
The workmen put to death the bridge that made,  
Because they wanted skill the same to've stayed.  
Seven thousand Galleys chained by Tyrians skill,  
Firmly at last accomplished his will.  
Seven days and nights, his host without least stay  
Was marching o'er this new devised way.  
Then in Abydos plains mustering his forces,  
He glories in his squadrons and his horses,  
Long viewing them, thought it great happiness,  
One king so many subjects should possess:  
But yet this sight from him produced tears,  
That none of those could live an hundred years.  
What after did ensue had he foreseen,  
Of so long time his thoughts had never been.  
Of Artubanus he again demands  
How of this enterprise his thoughts now stands,  
His answer was, both sea and land he feared,  
Which was not vain as after soon appeared.  
But Xerxes resolute to Thrace goes first,  
His Host all Lissus drinks, to quench their thirst,  
And for his cattle, all Pissyrus Lake  
Was scarce enough for each a draught to take:  
Then marching on to th' straight Thermopyle,  
The Spartan meets him brave Leonade;  
This 'twixt the mountains lies (half Acre wide)  
That pleasant Thessaly from Greece divide  
Two days and nights, a fight they there maintain,  
Till twenty thousand Persians fell down ●lain;  
And all that Army then dismayed, had fled,  
But that a Fugitive discovered.  
How some might o'er the mountains go about,  
And wound the backs of those brave warriors stout  
They thus behemed with multitude of Foes,  
Laid on more fiercely their deep mortal blows.  
None cries for quarter nor yet seeks to run;  
But on their ground they die each Mothers Son.  
O noble Greeks, how now degenerate,  
Where is the valour of your ancient State?  
When as one thousand could a million daunt,  
Alas! it is Leonades you want.  
This shameful victory cost Xerxes dear,  
Among the rest, two brothers he lost there;  
And as at Land, so he at Sea was crossed,  
Four hundred stately Ships by storms was lost;  
Of Vessels small almost innumerable,  
The Harbours to contain them was not 〈◊〉  
Yet thinking to out match his Foes at S●●  
Enclosed their Fleet i'th' strength of Eube●●  
But they as fortunate at Sea as Land,  
In this straight as the other firmly stand.  
And Xerxes' mighty Galleys battered so,  
That their split sides witnessed his overthrow;  
Then in the straight of Salamis he tried,  
If that small number his great force could? bide:  
But he in daring of his forward Foe,  
Received there a shameful overthrow.  
Twice beaten thus at Sea he warred no more,  
But then the P●●cians Country wasted sore;  
They no way able to withstand his force,  
That brave Themistocles takes this wise course,  
In secret manner word to Xerxes sends,  
That Greeks to break his Bridge shortly intends:  
A●d as a friend warns him what e'er he do  
For his Retreat, to have an e●e thereto,  
He hearing this, his thoughts & course home bended  
Much fearing that which never was intended.  
Yet before he went to help out his expense  
Part of his Host to Delphos sent from thence,  
To rob the wealthy Temple of Apollo,  
But mischief sacrilege doth ever follow.  
Two mighty Rocks broke from Parnassus' hill,  
And many thousands of those men did kill;  
Which accident the rest affrighted so,  
With empty hands they to their Master go:  
He finding all, to tend to his decay,  
Fearing his Bridge, no longer there w●uld stay.  
Three hundred thousand yet he left behind,  
With his Mardonius Index of his mind;  
Who for his sake he knew would venture fare,  
(Chief instigator of this hapless war.)  
He instantly to Athens sends for peace,  
That all Hostility from thence forth cease;  
And that with Xerxes they would be at one,  
So should all favour to their State be shown.  
The Spartans' fearing Athens would agree,  
As had Macedon, Thebes, and Thessaly,  
And leave them out, this Shock now to sustain,  
By their Ambassador they thus complain,  
That Xerxes' quarrel was 'gainst Athens State,  
And they had helped them as Confederate;  
If in their need they should forsake their friends,  
Their infamy would last till all things ends:  
But the Athenians this peace detest,  
And thus replied unto Mardon's request.  
That whilst the Sun did run his endless Course  
Against the Persians, they would bend their force;  
Nor could the brave Ambassador he sent,  
With Rhetoric gain better Compliment:  
A Macedonian born, and great Commander.  
No less than grandsire to great Alexa●d●r  
Mardonius proud hearing this Answer stout,  
To add more to his numbers lays about;  
And of those Greeks which by his Skill he'd won,  
He fifty thousand joins unto his own:  
The other Greeks which were Confederate  
In all one hundred and ten thousand made  
The Athenians could but forty thousand Arm,  
The rest had weapons would do little harm;  
But that which helped defects, and made them bold,  
Was victory by Oracle foretold.  
Then for one battle shortly all provide;  
Where both their Controversies they'll decide;  
Ten days these Armies did each other face,  
Mardonius finding victuals wast apace,  
No l●nger dared, but bravely on set gave,  
The other not a hand nor Sword would wave,  
Ti●l in the ●ntrails of their Sacrifice  
The signal of their victory did rise,  
Which found like Greeks they fight, the Persians fly,  
And troublesome Mardonius now must die.  
All's lost, and of three hundred thousand men,  
Three thousand only can run home again.  
For pity let those few to Xerxes go,  
To certify his final overthrow:  
Same day the small remainder of his Fleet,  
The Grecians at Mycale in Asia meet.  
And there so utterly they wracked the same,  
Scarce one was left to carry home the Fame;  
Thus did the Greeks, consume, destroy, disperse.  
That Army, which did fright the Universe.  
Scorned Xerxes bated for his cruelty,  
Yet ceases not to act his villainy.  
His brother's wife solicits to his will,  
The chaste and beauteous Dame refused still;  
Some years by him in this vain suit was spent,  
Nor prayers nor gifts could win him least content;  
Nor matching of her daughter to his Son,  
But she was still as when he first begun:  
When jealous Queen Amestris of this knew,  
She Harpy like upon the Lady flew,  
Cut off her breasts her lips her nose and ears,  
And leavs her thus besmeared in blood and tears.  
Strait comes her Lord, and finds his wife thus lie,  
The sorrow of his heart did close his Eye▪  
He dying to behold that wounding sight,  
Where he had sometime gazed with great delight,  
To see that face where rose, and Lillyes stood,  
o'erflown with Torrent of her guiltless blood,  
To see those breasts where Chastity did dwell,  
Thus cut and mangled by a Hag of Hell:  
With loaden heart unto the King he goes,  
Tells as he could his unexpressed woes;  
But for his deep complaints and showers of tears,  
His brother's recompense was nought but jeers:  
The grieved prince finding nor right, nor love,  
To Bactria his household did remove.  
His brother sent soon after him a crew,  
With him and his most barbarously there slew  
Unto such height did grow his cruelty,  
Of life no man had least security.  
At last his Uncle did his death conspire,  
And for that end his Eunuch he did hire;  
Who privately him smothered in his bed,  
But yet by search he was found murdered;  
Then Artabanus hirer of this deed,  
That from suspicion he might be freed:  
Accused Darius X●●xes eldest Son,  
To be the Author of the crime was done.  
And by his craft ordered the matter so,  
That the Prince innocent to death did go:  
But in short time this wickedness was known,  
For which he died, and not he alone,  
But all his Family was likewise slain:  
Such Justice in the Persian Court did reign.  
The eldest son thus immaturely dead,  
The second was enthroned in's father's stead.   

Artaxerxes Longimanus.  
Amongst the Monarches, next this prince had place  
The best that ever sprung of Cyrus' race.  
He first war with revolted Egypt made,  
To whom the perjured Grecians lent their aid:  
Although to Xerxes they not long before  
A league of amity had firmly swore,  
Which had they kept, Greece had more nobly done  
Then when the world they after overrun.  
Greeks and Egyptians both he overthrows,  
And pays them both according as he owes,  
Which done, a sumptuous feast makes like a king  
Where ninescore days are spent in banqueting.  
His Princes, Nobles, and his Captains calls,  
To be partakers of these Festivals:  
His hang white and green, and purple dye,  
With gold and silver beds▪ most gorgeously.  
The royal wine in golden cups did pass,  
To drink more than he list▪ none bidden was.  
Queen Vasthi also feasts, but before 'tis ended,  
She's from her Royalty (alas) suspended,  
And one more worthy placed in her room,  
By Memucans' advice so was the doom.  
What Esther was and did, the story read,  
And how her Country men from spoil she freed,  
Of Hamans' fall, and Mordicaes great Rise.  
The might of th' prince, the tribute of the Isles.  
Good Ezra in the seventh year of his reign,  
Did for the Jews commission large obtain,  
With gold and silver, and what ere they need:  
His bounty did Darius far exceed.  
And Nehemiah in his twentieth year,  
Went to Jerusalem his city dear,  
Rebuilt those walls which long in rubbish lay,  
And o'er his opposites still got the day,  
Unto this King Themistocles did fly,  
When under Ostracism he did lie;  
For such ingratitude did Athens show,  
(This valiant Knight whom they so much did owe)  
Such royal bounty from his prince he found,  
That in his loyalty his heart was bound.  
The king not little joyful of this chance,  
Thinking his Gresian wars now to advance,  
And for that end great preparation made  
Fair Attica a third time to invade.  
His grandsires old disgrace did vex him sore,  
His Father Xerxes' loss and shame much more▪  
For punishment their breach of oath did call  
This noble Greek, now fit for General.  
Provisions then and season being fit,  
To Themistocles this war he doth commit,  
Who for his wrong he could not choose but deem  
His Country nor his Friends would much esteem:  
But he all injury had soon forge it;  
And to his native land could bear no hate,  
Nor yet disloyal to his Prince would prove,  
By whom obliged by bounty, and by love;  
Either to wrong, did wound his heart so sore,  
To wrong himself by death he chose before:  
In this sad conflict marching on his ways,  
Strong poison took, so put an end to's days  
The King this noble Captain having lost,  
Dispersed again his newly levied host:  
Rest of his time in peace he did remain,  
And died the two and forti'th of his reign.   

Darius' Nothus.  
Three sons great Artaxerxes left behind;  
The eldest to succeed, that was his mind:  
His second Brother with him fell at strife,  
Still making war, till first had lost his life:  
Then the Survivor is by Nothus slain,  
Who now sole Monarch doth of all remain.  
The two first sons (are by Historians thought)  
By fair Queen Esther to her husband brought:  
If so they were the greater was her moan,  
That for such graceless wretch's she did groan.  
Revolting Egypt 'gainst this King rebels,  
His Garrisons drives out that 'mongst them dwells;  
Joyns with the Greeks, an● so maintain their right,  
For sixty years, maugre the Persians might.  
A second trouble after this succeeds,  
Which from remissness in ●●e●s Asi● breeds.  
Among, whom for Viceroy he ordained,  
Revolts, treasure and people having gained,  
Plunders the Country, & much mischief wrought  
Before things could to quietness be brought.  
The King was glad with Sparta to make peace,  
That so he might those troubles soon appease:  
But they in Asia must first restore  
All towns held by his Ancestors before.  
The King much profit reaped by this league,  
Regains his own, then doth the Rebel break  
Whose strength by Grecians help was overthrown,  
And so each man again possessed his own.  
This King Cambyses like his sister wed,  
To which his pride, more than his lust him led:  
For Persian Kings then deemed themselves so good  
No match was high enough but their own blood.  
Two sons she bore, the youngest Cyrus named,  
A Prince whose worth by Xenophon is famed:  
His Father would no notice of that take  
Prefers his brother for his birthrights sake.  
But Cyrus scorns his brother's feeble wit,  
And takes more on him than was judged fit.  
The King provoked sends for him to th' Court,  
Meaning to chastise him in sharpest sort,  
But in his slow approach, ere he came there  
His Father died, so put an end to's fear.  
'Bout nineteen years this Nothus reigned, which run,  
His large Dominions left to's eldest Son.   

Artaxerxes Mnemon.  
Murmon now set upon his Father's Throne,  
Yet fears all he enjoys, is not his own:  
Still on his Brother casts a jealous eye,  
Judging his actions tends to's injury.  
Cyrus' on th' other side weighs in his mind,  
What help in's enterprise he's like to find;  
His Interest in th' Kingdom now next heir,  
More dear to's Mother then his brother far:  
His brother's little love like to be gone,  
Held by his Mother's Intercession.  
These and like motives hurry him amain,  
To win by force, what right could not obtain;  
And thought it best now in his Mother's time,  
By lower steps towards the top to climb:  
If in his enterprise he should fall short,  
She to the King would make a fair report,  
He hoped if fraud nor force the Crown would gain  
Her prevalence, a pardon might obtain.  
From the Lieutenant first he takes away  
Some Towns, commodious in less Asia,  
Pretending still the profit of the King.  
Whose Rents and Customs duly he sent in;  
The King finding Revenues now amended,  
For what was done seemed no whit offended,  
Then next he takes the Spartans' into pay,  
One Greek could make ten Persia ●u● away.  
Great ear was his preten●e those Soldiers stout,  
The Rovers in Pisidia should drive out;  
But lest some blacker news should fly to Court,  
Prepares himself to carry the report:  
And for that en● five hundred Horse he chose;  
With posting speed on towards the ●ing he goes:  
But same more quick, arrives ere he comes there,  
And fills the Court with tumult, and with fear.  
The old Queen and the young at bitter jars,  
The last accused the first for these ●a● wars,  
The wife against the mother still doth cry  
To be the Author of conspiracy.  
The King dismayed, a mighty host doth raise,  
Which Cyrus hears, and so foreslows his pace:  
But as he goes his forces still augments,  
Seven hundred Greeks repair for his m●●n●s,  
And others to be warmed by the new sun  
In numbers from his brother daily run.  
The fearful King at last susters his forces,  
And counts nine hun●red thousand Foot & horses▪  
Three hundred thousand ●e to by ● sent  
To keep those straits his brother to prevent.  
Their Captain hearing but of Cyrus' name,  
Forsook his charge to his eternal ●●ame.  
This place so made by nature and by art,  
Few might have kept it had they had a heart.  
Cyrus' despaired a passage there to gain  
So hired a fleet to waft him o'er the Main:  
The 'mazed King was then about to fly  
To Bactria and for a time there lie,  
Had not his Captains sore against his will  
By reason and by force detained him still,  
Up then with speed a mighty trench he throws  
For his security against his foes,  
Six yards the depth and forty miles in length,  
Some fifty or else sixty ●oot in breadth;  
Yet for his brothers coming durst not stay,  
He safest was when farthest out of th' way.  
Cyrus' sin●ing his camp, and no man there,  
Was not a little jocund at his fear.  
On this he and his soldiers careless grow,  
And here and there in carts their arms they throw  
When suddenly their scouts come in and cry,  
Arm, Arm, the King with all his host is nigh.  
In this confusion each man as he might  
Gets on his arms, arrays himself for fight,  
And ranged stood by great Euphrates side  
The brunt of that huge multitude to 'bide,  
Of whose great numbers their intelligence  
Was gathered by the dust that risen from thence,  
Which like a mighty cloud darkened the sky,  
And black and blacker grew, as they drew nigh:  
But when their order and their silence saw,  
That, more than multitudes their hearts did awe;  
For tumult and confusion they expected,  
And all good discipline to be neglected.  
But long under their fears they did not stay,  
For at first charge the Persians ran away,  
Which did such courage to the Grecians bring,  
They all adored Cyrus for their King:  
So had he been, and got the victory,  
Had not his too much valour put him by.  
He with six hundred on a Squadron set,  
Of thousands six wherein the King was yet,  
And brought his Soldiers on so gallantly,  
They ready were to leave their King and fly;  
Whom Cyrus spies cries loud, I see the man,  
And with a full career at him he ran:  
And in his speed a dart him hit i'th' eye,  
Down Cyrus falls, and yields to destiny:  
His Host in chase knows not of this disaster,  
But treads down all, so to advance their master;  
But when his head they spy upon a Lance,  
Who knows the sudden change made by this chance  
Senseless & mute they stand, yet breath out groans,  
Nor Gorgon's head like this transformed to stones.  
After this trance, revenge new Spirits blue,  
And now more eagerly their Foes pursue;  
And heaps on heaps such multitudes they laid,  
Their Arms grew weary by their slaughters made.  
The King unto a Country Village flies,  
And for a while unkingly there he lies.  
At last displays his Ensign on a Hill,  
Hoping by that to make the Greeks stand still;  
But was deceived▪ to him they run amain,  
The King upon the spur runs back again:  
But they too saint still to pursue their game,  
Being Victors oft now to their Camp they came.  
nor lacked they any of their number small,  
Nor wound received, but one among them all:  
The King with his dispersed, also encamped,  
With Infamy upon each Forehead stamped.  
His hurried thoughts he after recollects,  
Of this day's Cowardice he fears th' effects.  
If Greeks in their own Country should declare,  
What dastards in the Field the Persia●s are,  
They in short time might place one in his Throne▪  
And rob him both or Sceptre and of Crown;  
To hinder their return ●y craft or force,  
He judged his wisest and his safest Course.  
Then sends, that to his Tent, they straight address,  
And there all wait, his mercy weaponless;  
The Greeks with scorn reject his proud Commands  
Ask no favour, where they feared no bands:  
The troubled King his He●● sends again,  
And sues for peace, that they his friends remain,  
The smiling Greeks reply, they first must bait,  
They were too hungry to Capitulate;  
The King great store of all provision sends,  
And Courtesy to th' utmost he pretends,  
Such terror on the Persians than did fall,  
They quaked to hear them to each other call,  
The King perplexed, there dares not let them stay:  
And fears as much, to let them march away,  
But Kings ne'er want such as can serve their will,  
Fit Instruments t' accomplish what is ill.  
As Tyssaphernes knowing his master's mind,  
Their chief Commanders feasts and yet more kind,  
With all the Oaths and deepest Flattery,  
Gets them to treat with him in privacy,  
But violates his honour and his word,  
And Villain like there puts them all to th'Sword.  
The Greeks seeing their valiant Captains slain,  
Chose Xenophon to lead them home again:  
But Tissaphernes what he could devise,  
Did stop the way in this their enterprise.  
But when through difficulties all they broke,  
The Country burnt, they no relief might take.  
But on they march through hunger & through cold  
O●re mountains, rocks and hills as lions bold,  
Nor Rivers course, nor Persians force could stay,  
But on to Trabesond they kept their way:  
There was of Greeks settled a Colony,  
Who after all received them joyfully.  
Thus finishing their travail, danger, pain,  
In peace they saw their native soil again.  
The Greeks now (as the Persian king suspects)  
The asiatics cowardi●e detects,  
The many victories themselves did gain,  
The many thousand Persians they had slain,  
And how their nation with facility,  
Might gain the universal Monarchy.  
They then Dercilladus send with an host,  
Who with the Spartans' on the Asian coast,  
Town after town with small resistance take,  
Which rumour makes great Artaxerxes quake.  
The Greeks by this success encouraged so,  
Their King Agesila●s doth over go,  
By Tissaphernes is encountered,  
Lieutenant to the King, but soon he fled.  
Which overthrow incensed the King so sore,  
That Tissaphern must be Viceroy no more.  
Tythraustes then is placed in his stead,  
Commission hath to take the others head:  
Of that perjurious wretch this was the fate,  
Whom the old Queen did bear a mortal hate.  
Tyt●●austes trusts more to his wit then Arms,  
And hopes by craft to quit his Master's harms;  
He knows that many Towns in Greece envies  
The Spartan State, which now so fast did rise;  
To them he thirty thousand Talents sent  
With suit, their Arms against their Foes be bend;  
They to their discontent receiving hire,  
With broils and quarrels sets all Greece on fire:  
Agesilaus is called home with speed,  
To defend, more than offend, there was need,  
Their win lo●●, and peace their glad to take  
On such conditions as the King will make.  
Dissension in Greece continued so long,  
Till many a Captain tell, both wise and strong,  
Whose courage nought but death could ever tame  
'Mongst these Epimanondas wants no same,  
Who had (as noble Raileigh doth evince)  
All the peculiar virtues of a Prince;  
But let us leave these Greeks to discord bend,  
And turn to Persia, as is pertinent.  
The King from foreign parts now well at ease,  
His home bred troubles sought how to appease;  
The two Queens by his means seem to abate,  
Their former envy and inveterate hate:  
But the old Queen implacable in strife,  
By poison caused, the young one lose her life.  
The King highly enraged doth hereupon  
From Court exile her unto Babylon:  
But shortly calls her home, her counsel's prize,  
(A Lady very wicked, but yet wise)  
Then in voluptuousness he leads his life,  
And weds his daughter for a second wife.  
But long in ease and pleasure did not lie,  
His sons sore vexed him by disloyalty.  
Such as would know at large his wars and reign,  
What troubles in his house he did sustain,  
His match incestuous cruelties of th' Queen,  
His life may read in Plutarch to be seen.  
Forty three years he ruled, then turned to dust,  
A King nor good, nor valiant, wise nor just.   

Dorius Ochus.  
Ochus a wicked and Rebellious son  
Succeeds in th' throne his father being gone.  
Two of his brothers in his Father's days  
(To his great grief) most subtly he slays:  
And being King commands those that remain,  
Of brethren and of kindred to be slain.  
Then raises forces, conquers Egypt land,  
Which in rebellion sixty years did stand:  
And in the twenty third of's cruel reign  
Was by his Eunuch the proud Bagoas slain.   

Arsames or Arses,  
Arsames placed now in his father's stead,  
By him that late his father murdered.  
Some writ that Arsames was O●hus brother,  
Enthroned by Bagoas in the room of th' other:  
But why his brother 'fore his son succeeds  
I can no reason give, 'cause none I read.  
His brother; as 'tis said, long since was slain,  
And scarce a Nephew left that now might reign:  
What acts he did time hath not now left penned,  
But most suppose in him did Cyrus' end,  
Whose race long time had worn the diadem,  
But now's divolved to another stem.  
Three years he reigned, then drank of's father's cup  
By the same Eunuch who first set him up.   

Darius Codomanus.  
Darius by this Bagoas set in throne,  
(Complotter with him in the murder done)  
And was no sooner settled in his reign,  
But Bagoas falls to's practices again,  
And the same sauce had served him no doubt,  
But that his troason timely was found out.  
And so this wretch (a punishment too small)  
Lost but his life for horrid treasons all.  
This Codomanus now upon the stage  
Was to his Predecessors Chamber pag●●  
Some writ great Cyrus' line was not 〈◊〉 run,  
But from some daughter this new king was sprung  
If so, or not, we cannot tell, but find  
That several men will have their several mind;  
Yet in such differences we may be bold,  
With learned and ●udicious still to hold;  
And this 'mongst all's not Controverred thing,  
That this Dari●● was last Persian King,  
Whose Wars, and losses we may better tell,  
In Alex●nder's reign who did him quell,  
How from the top of world's felicity,  
He fell to depth of greatest misery.  
Whose honours, treasures, pleasures had short stay,  
One deluge came and swept them all away,  
And in the sixth year of his hapless reign,  
Of all did scarce his winding Sheet retain:  
And last a sad Catastrophe to end,  
Him to the grave did Traitor Bessus send.   
The End of the Persian Monarchy:   

The Third Monarchy, being the Grecian, beginning under Alexander the Great in the 112. Olympiad.  
GReat Alexander was wise Philip's son,  
He to Amyntas, Kings of Macedon;  
The cruel proud Olympias was his Mother,  
She to Epirus warlike King was daughter.  
This Prince (his father by Pausanias slain)  
The twenty first of ' sage began to reign.  
Great were the Guilts of nature which he had,  
His education much to those did add:  
By art and nature both he was made fit,  
To ' complish that which long before was writ.  
The ●ry day of his Nativity  
To ground was burnt Diana's Temple high:  
An Omen to their near approaching woe,  
Whose glory to the earth this king did throw.  
His Rule to Greece he scorned should be confined,  
The Universe scarce bound his proud vast mind.  
This is the He-Goat which from Grecia came,  
That ran in Choler on the Persian Ram,  
That broke his horns, that threw him on the ground  
To save him from his might no man was found:  
Philip on this great Conquest had an eye,  
But death did terminate those thoughts so high.  
The Greeks had chose him Captain General,  
Which honour to his Son did now befall.  
(For as World's Monarch now we speak not on,  
But as the King of little Macedon)  
Restless both day and night his heart then was,  
His high resolves which way to bring to pass,  
Yet for a while in Greece is forced to stay,  
Which makes each moment seem more than a day,  
Thebes and stiff Athens both 'gainst him rebel,  
Their mutinies by valour doth he quell.  
This done against both right and nature's Laws,  
His kinsmen put to death, who gave no cause;  
That no rebellion in in his absence be,  
Nor making Title unto Sovereignty.  
And all whom he suspects or fears will climb,  
Now taste of death lest they deserved in time,  
Nor wonder is●t if he in b●ood begin,  
For Cruelty was his parental sin,  
Thus eased now of troubles and of fears,  
Next spring his course to Asia he steers,  
Leavs Sage Antipa●, at home to sway,  
And through the Hellis●●nt his Ships made way.  
Coming to Land, his dart on shore he throws,  
Then with alacrity he after goes;  
And with a bounteous heart and courage brave;  
His little wealth among his Soldiers gave.  
And being asked what for himself was left,  
Replied enough, sigh only hope he kept.  
Thirty two thousand made up his Foot force,  
To which were joined five thousand goodly horse.  
Then on he marched, in's way he viewed old Troy,  
And on Achilles' tomb with wondrous joy  
He offered, and for good success did pray  
To him, his Mother's Ancestors, (men say)  
When news of Alexander came to Court,  
To scorn at him Darius had good sport;  
Sends him a frothy and contemptuous Letter,  
Styles him disloyal servant, and no better;  
Reproves him for his proud audacity  
To lift his hand 'gainst such a Monarchy.  
Then to's Lieutenant he in Asia sends,  
That he be ta'en alive, for he intends  
To whip him well with rods, and so to bring  
That boy so mallipert before the King.  
Ah! fond vain man, whose pen ere while  
In lower terms was taught a higher stile.  
To River Granick Alexander hies  
Which in Phrygia near Propontike lies  
The Persians ready for encounter stand,  
And strive to keep his men from off the land;  
Those banks so steep the Greeks yet scramble up,  
And heat the coward Persians from the top,  
And twenty thousand of their lives bereave.  
Who in their backs did all their wounds receive.  
This victory did Alexander gain,  
With loss of thirty four of his there slain;  
Then Sardis he, and Ephesus did gain,  
Where stood of late, Diana's wondrous Fane,  
And by Pa●me●●o (of renowned Fame,)  
Militus and Pamphilia overcame.  
Halli●arnassus and Pisidia  
He for his Master takes with Lycia.  
Next Alexander marched towards the black Sea,  
And easily takes old Gordium in his way;  
Of Ass eared Midas, once the Regal Seat,  
Whose touch turned all to gold, yea even his meat  
Where the Prophetic knot he cuts in twain,  
Which who so doth, must Lord of all remain.  
Now news of Memnon's death (the King's Viceroy)  
To Alexander's heart's not little joy,  
For in that Peer, more valour did abide,  
Then in Darius' multitude beside:  
In's stead, was Arses placed, but durst not stay,  
Yet set one in his room, and ran away;  
His substitute as fearful as his master,  
Runs after two, and leaves all to Disaster.  
Then Alexander all Cilicia takes,  
No stroke for it he struck▪ their hearts so quakes.  
To Gre●●● he thirty thousand talents sends.  
To raise more Force to further his intends:  
Then o'er he goes Darius now to meet,  
Who came with thousand thousands at his feet.  
Though some there be (perhaps) more likely writ  
He but four hundred thousand had to fight,  
The rest Attendants, which made up no less,  
Both Sexes there was almost numberless.  
For this wise King had brought to see the sport,  
With him the greatest Ladies of the Court,  
His mother, his beauteous Queen and daughters,  
It seems to see the Macedonian slaughters.  
It's much beyond my time and little art,  
To show how great Darius played his part;  
The splendour and the pomp he marched in,  
For since the world was no such ●●geant seen.  
Sure 'twas a goodly sight there to behold,  
The Persians clad in silk, and glistering gold,  
The stately horses trapped, the lances gilt,  
As if addressed now all to run a tilt.  
The holy sire was borne before the host,  
(For Sun and ●ire the Persians worship most)  
The Priests in their strange habit follow after,  
An object, not so much of fear as laughter.  
The King sat in a chariot made of gold,  
With crown and Robes most glorious to behold,  
And o'er his head his golden Gods on high,  
Support a party coloured Canopy.  
A number of spare horses next were led,  
Lest he should need them in his Chariot's stead;  
But those that saw him in this state to lie,  
Supposed he neither meant to fight nor fly.  
He fifteen hundred had like women dressed;  
For thus to fright the Greeks he judged was best.  
Their golden ornaments how to set forth,  
Would ask more time than was their body's worth  
Great Sysigambis she brought up the Rear,  
Then such a world of wagons did appear,  
Like several houses moving upon wheels,  
As if she'd drawn whole S●●han at her heels.  
This brave Virago to the King was mother,  
And as much good she did as any other.  
Now lest this gold, and all this goodly stuff  
Had not been spoil and booty rich enough  
A thousand mul● and Camels ready wait  
Loaden with gold, with jewels and with plate:  
For sure Darius thought at the first sight,  
The Greeks would all adore, but none would fight  
But when both Armies met, he might behold  
That valour was more worth than pearls or gold,  
And that his wealth served but for baits to ' lure  
To make his overthrow more fierce and sure.  
The Greeks came on and with a gallant grace  
Let fly their arrows in the Persians face.  
The cowards feeling this sharp stinging charge  
Most basely ran, and left their king at large:  
Who from his golden coach is glad to ' light,  
And cast away his crown for swifter flight:  
Of late like some immovable he lay,  
Now finds both legs and horse to run away.  
Two hundred thousand men that day were slain,  
And forty thousand prisoners also ta'en,  
Besides the Queens and Ladies of the court,  
If Curtius be true in his report.  
The Regal Ornaments were lost, the treasure  
Divided at the Macedonians pleasure;  
Yet all this grief, this loss, this overthrow,  
Was but beginning of his future woe.  
The royal Captives brought to Alexander  
T'ward them demeaned himself like a Commander  
For though their beauties were unparaled,  
Conquered himself now he had conquered.  
Preserved their honour, used them bounteously,  
Commands no man should do them injury:  
And this to Al●xander is more fame  
Then that the Persian King he overcame.  
Two hundred eighty Greeks he lost in fight,  
By too much heat, not wounds (as authors writ)  
No sooner had this Victor won the field,  
But all Phenicia to his pleasure yield,  
Of which the Government he doth commit  
Unto Parmenio of all most fit.  
Darius now less lofty than before,  
To Alexander writes he would restore  
Those mournful Ladies from Captivity,  
For whom he offers him a ransom high:  
But down his haughty stomach could not bring,  
To give this Conqueror the Style of King.  
This Letter Alexander doth disdain,  
And in short terms sends this reply again,  
A King he was, and that not only so,  
But of Darius' King, as he should know.  
Next Alexander unto Tyre doth go,  
His valour and his victories they know:  
To gain his love the Tyrians intent,  
Therefore a crown and great Provision send,  
Their present he receives with thankfulness,  
Desires to offer unto Hercules,  
Protector of their town, by whom defended,  
And from whom he lineally descended.  
But they accept not this in any wise,  
Lest he intent more fraud than sacrifice,  
Sent word that Hercules his temple stood  
In the old town, (which then lay like a wood)  
With this reply he was so deep enraged,  
To win the town his honour he engaged:  
And now as Babel's King did once before,  
No leaves not till he made the sea firm shore,  
But far less time and cost he did expend,  
The former Ruins forwarded his end:  
Moreover had a Navy at command,  
The other by his men fetched all by land.  
In seven months' time he took that wealthy town,  
Whose glory now a second time's brought down.  
Two thousand of the chief he crucified,  
Eight thousand by the sword then also died,  
And thirteen thousand Galley slaves he made,  
And thus the Tyrians for mistrust were paid.  
The rule of this he to Philotas gave  
Who was the son of that Parmenio brave.  
Cilicia to Socrates doth give,  
For now's the time Captains like Kings may live▪  
Zidon he on Ephestion bestows,  
(For that which freely comes, as freely goes)  
He scorns to have one worse than had the other,  
So gives his little Lordship to another.  
Ephestion having chief command of th' Fleet,  
At Gaza now must Alexander meet.  
Darius' finding troubles still increase,  
By his Ambassadors now sues for peace,  
And lays before great Alexander's eyes  
The dangers difficultyes like to rise,  
First at Euphrates what he's like to 'bide,  
And then at Tigris and Araxis side,  
These he may scape, and if he so desire,  
A league of friendship make firm and entire.  
His eldest daughter he in marriage proffers,  
And a most princely dowry with her offers.  
All those rich Kingdoms large that do abide  
Betwixt the Hellespont and Halys side.  
But he with scorn his courtesy rejects,  
And the distressed King no whit respects,  
Tells him, these proffers great, in truth were none  
For all he offers now was but his own.  
But quoth Parmenio that brave Commander,  
Was I as great, as is great Alexander,  
Darius offers I would not reject,  
But th' kingdoms and the Lady soon accept.  
To which proud Alexander made reply,  
And so if I Parmenio was, would I.  
He now to Gaza goes, and there doth meet,  
His Favourite Ephestion with his Fleet,  
Where valiant Betis stoutly keeps the town,  
(A loyal Subject to Darius' Crown)  
For more repulse the Grecians here abide  
Then in the Persian Monarchy beside;  
And by these walls so many men were slain,  
That Greece was forced to yield supply again,  
But yet this well defended Town was taken,  
For 'twas decreed, that Empire should be shaken;  
Thus Betis ta'en had holes bored through his feet,  
And by command was drawn through every street  
To imitate Achilles in his shame,  
Who did the like to Hector (of more fame)  
What hast thou lost thy magnimity,  
Can Alexander deal thus cruelly?  
Sith valour with Heroics is renowned,  
Though in an Enemy it should be found;  
If of thy future fame thou hadst regard,  
Why didst not heap up honours and reward?  
From Gaza to Jerusalem he goes,  
But in no hostile way, (as I suppose)  
Him in his Priestly Robes high Jaddus meets,  
Whom with great reverence Alexander greets;  
The Priest shows him good Daniel's Prophecy,  
How he should overthrow this Monarchy,  
By which he was so much encouraged,  
No future dangers he did ever dread.  
From thence to fruitful Egypt marched with speed,  
Where happily in's wars he did succeed;  
To see how fast he gained was no small wonder,  
For in few days he brought that Kingdom under.  
Then to the Fane of Jupiter he went,  
To be installed a God, was his intent.  
The Pagan Priest through hire, or else mistake,  
The Son of Jupiter did straight him make:  
He Diobolical must needs remain,  
That his humanity will not retain.  
Thence back to Egypt goes, and in few days;  
Fair Alexandria from the ground doth raise▪  
Than settling all things in less Asia,  
In Syria, Egypt, and Phenicia,  
Unto Euphrate● marched and overgoes,  
For no man's there his Army to oppose;  
Had ●●tis now been there, but with his band,  
Great Alexander had been kept from Land.  
But as the King, so is the multitude,  
And now of valour both are destitute.  
Yet he (poor prince) another Host doth muster,  
Of P●●si●●s, Scythians, Inaians' in a cluster;  
Men but in shape and name, of valour none  
Most fit, to blunt the Swords of Macedon.  
Two hundred fifty thousand by account,  
Of Horse and Foot his Army did amount;  
For in his multitudes his trust still lay,  
But on their fortitude he had small stay;  
Yet had some hope that on the spacious plain,  
His numbers might the victory obtain.  
About this time Darius beauteous Queen,  
Who had sore travail and much sorrow seen,  
Now bids the world adve, with pain being spent,  
Whose death her Lord full sadly did lament.  
Great Alexander mourns as well as he,  
The more because not set at liberty;  
When this sad news (at first Darius hears,  
Some injury was offered he fears:  
But when informed how royally the King.  
Had used her, and hers, in every thing,  
He prays the immortal Gods they would reward  
Great Alexander for this good regard;  
And if they down his Monarchy will throw,  
Let them on him this dignity bestow  
And now for peace he sues as once before,  
And offers all he did and Kingdoms more;  
His eldest daughter for his princely bride,  
(Nor was such match in all the world beside)  
And all those Countries which (betwixt) did lie  
Phanisian Sea, and great Euphrates high:  
With fertile Egypt and rich Syria,  
And all those Kingdoms in less Asia.  
With thirty thousand Talents to be paid,  
For the Queen Mother, and the royal maid;  
And till all this be well performed, and sure,  
Ochus his Son for Hostage should endure.  
To this stout Alexander gives no ear  
No though Parmenio plead, yet will not hear;  
Which had he done▪ (perhaps) his fame he'd kept,  
Nor Infamy had waked, when he had slept,  
For his unlimited prosperity  
Him boundless made in vice and Cruelty.  
Thus to Darius he writes back again,  
The Firmament, two Suns cannot contain.  
Two Monarchies on Earth cannot abide,  
Nor yet two Monarches in one world reside;  
The afflicted King finding him set to jar,  
Prepares against to morrow, for the war,  
Parmenio, Alexander, wished that night,  
To force his Camp, so vanquish them by flight.  
For tumult in the night doth cause most dread,  
And weakness of a Foe is covered,  
But he disdained to steal a victory:  
The Sun should witness of his valour be,  
And careless in his bed, next morn he lies,  
By Captains twice is called before he'll rise,  
The Armies joined a while, the Pe●sians ●●ght.  
And spilt the Greeks some blood before their flight  
But long they stood not ere they're forced to run,  
So made an end, As soon as well begun.  
Forty five thousand Alexander had,  
But is not known what slaughter here was made,  
Some writ th' other had a million, some more,  
But Quintus Curtius as before.  
At Arbela this victory was gained,  
Together with the Town also obtained;  
Darius stripped of all, to Media came,  
Accompanied with sorrow, fear, and shame,  
At Arbela left his Ornaments and Treasure,  
Which Alexander deals as suits his pleasure.  
This conqueror to Babylon then goes,  
Is entertained with joy and pompous shows,  
With showers of flours the streets along are strown,  
And incense burnt the silver Altars on.  
The glory of the Castle he admires,  
The strong Foundation and the lofty Spires,  
In this, a world of gold and Treasure lay,  
Which in few hours was carried all away.  
With greedy eyes he views this City rou●●  
Whose fame throughout the world was so 〈◊〉  
And to possess he counts no little bliss  
The towers and bowers of proud Semiramis,  
Though worn by time, and razed by foes full sore,  
Yet old foundations showed and somewhat more.  
With all the pleasures that on earth are found,  
This city did abundantly abound,  
Where four and thirty days he now did stay,  
And gave himself to banqueting and play:  
He and his soldiers wax effeminate,  
And former discipline begin to hate.  
Whilst revelling at Babylon he lies,  
Antipater from Greece sends fresh supplies.  
He then to Shushan goes with his new bands,  
But needs no force, 'tis rendered to his hands.  
He likewise here a world of treasure found;  
For 'twas the seat of Persian Kings renown●d.  
Here stood the royal Houses of delight,  
Where Kings have shown their glory wealth and might  
The sumptuous palace of Queen Esther here,  
And of good Mordicai, her kinsman dear,  
Those purple hang, mixed with green and white  
Those beds of gold and couches of delight.  
And furniture the richest in all lands,  
Now fall into the Macedonians hands.  
From Shushan to Persipolis he goes,  
Which news doth still augment Darius' woes.  
In his approach the governor sends word,  
For his receipt with joy they all accord,  
With open gates the wealthy town did stand,  
And all in it was at his high command.  
Of all the Cities that on earth was found,  
None like to this in riches did abound:  
Though Baby●on was rich and Shushan too  
Yet to compare with this they might not do:  
Here lay the bulk of all those precious things  
That did pertain unto the Persian Kings:  
For when the soldiers rifled had their pleasure,  
And taken money plate and golden treasure,  
Statues some gold, and silver numberless,  
Yet after all, as stories do express  
The share of Alexander did amount  
To an hundred thousand talents by account.  
Here of his own he sets a Garrison,  
(As first at Shushan and at Babylon)  
On their old Governors titles he laid,  
But on their faithfulness he never stayed,  
Their place gave to his Captains (as was just)  
For such revolters false, what King can trust▪  
The riches and the pleasures of this town  
Now makes this King his virtues all to drown,  
That wallowing in all licentiousness,  
In pride and cruelty to high excess.  
Being inflamed with wine upon a season,  
Filled with madness, and quite void of reason,  
He at a bold proud strumpets lewd desire,  
Commands to set this goodly town on fire.  
Parmenio wise entreats him to desist▪  
And lays before his eyes if he persist  
His fame's dishonour, loss unto his state,  
And just procuring of the Persians hate:  
But deaf to reason, bend to have his will,  
Those stately streets with raging flame did fill.  
Then to Darius he directs his way,  
Who was retired as far as Media,  
An● there with sorrows, fears & cares surrounded  
Ha● now his army fourth and last compounded,  
Which forty thousand made, but his intent  
Was these in Bactria soon to augment:  
But hearing Al●xander was so near,  
Thought now this once to try his fortunes here,  
And rather chose an honourable death,  
Then still with infamy to draw his breath:  
But B●ssus false, who was his chief Commander  
Persuades him not to fight with Alexander.  
With sage advice he sets before his eyes  
The little hope of profit like to rise:  
If when he'd multitudes the day he lost,  
Then with so fow, how likely to be crossed.  
This counsel for his safety he pretended,  
But to deliver him to's foe intended.  
Next day this treason to Darius known  
Transported sore with grief and passion,  
Grinding his teeth, and plucking off his hair,  
Sat overwhelmed with sorrow and despair:  
Then bids his servant Artahasus true,  
Look to himself, and leave him to that crew,  
Who was of hopes and comforts quite bereft,  
And by his guard and Servitors all left.  
Strait Bessus comes, & with his traitorous hands  
Lays hold on's Lord, and binding him with bands  
Throws him into a Cart, covered with hides,  
Who wanting means t' resist these wrongs abides,  
Then draws the cart along with chains of gold,  
In more despite the thralled prince to hold,  
And thus t'ward Alexander on he goes,  
Great recompense for this, he did propose:  
But some detesting this his wicked fact▪  
To Alexander flies and tells this act,  
Who doubling of his march, posts on amain,  
Darius from that traitor's hands to gain.  
Bessus gets knowledge his disloyalty  
Had Alexander's wrath incensed high,  
Whose army now was almost within sight,  
His hopes being dashed prepares himself for ●light:  
Unto Darius first he brings a horse,  
And bids him save himself by speedy course:  
The woeful King his courtesy refuses,  
Whom thus the execrable wretch abuses,  
By throwing darts gave him his mortal wound.  
Then slew his Servants that were faithful found,  
Yea wounds the beasts that drew him unto death,  
And leaves him thus to gasp out his last breath.  
Bessus his partner in this tragedy,  
Was the false Governor of Media.  
This done, they with their host soon speed away,  
To hid themselves remote in Bactria.  
Darius' bathed in blood, sends out his groans,  
Invokes the heavens and earth to hear his moans:  
His lost felicity did grieve him sore,  
But this unheard of treachery much more:  
But above all, that neither Ear nor Eye  
Should hear nor see his dying misery;  
As thus he lay, Polistrates a Greek,  
Wearied with his long march, did water seek,  
So chanced these bloody Horses to espy,  
Whose wounds had made their skins of purple dye  
To them repairs then looking in the Cart,  
Finds poor Darius pierced to the heart,  
Who not a little cheered to have some eye,  
The witness of this horrid Tragedy;  
Prays him to Alexander to commend  
The just revenge of this his woeful end:  
And not to pardon such disloyalty,  
Of Treason, Murder, and base Cruelty.  
If not, because Darius thus did pray,  
Yet that succeeding Kings in safety may  
Their lives enjoy, their Crowns and dignity,  
And not by Traitors hands untimely dye.  
He also sends his humble thankfulness,  
For all the Kingly grace he did express;  
To's Mother, Children dear, and wife now gone▪  
Which made their long restraint seem to be none:  
Praying the immortal Gods, that Sea and Land  
Might be subjected to his royal hand,  
And that his Rule as far extended be,  
As men the rising setting Sun shall see,  
This said, the Greek for water doth entreat,  
To quench his thirst, and to allay his heat:  
Of all good things quoth he) once in my power,  
I've nothing left, at this my dying hour;  
Thy service and compassion to reward,  
But Alexander will, for this regard.  
This said, his fainting breath did fleet away,  
And though a Monarch late, now lies like clay;  
And thus must every Son of Adam lie,  
Though Gods on Earth like Sons of men they die.  
Now to the East, great Alexander goes,  
To see if any dare his might oppose,  
For scarce the world or any bounds thereon,  
Can bond his boundless fond Ambition;  
Such as submits again he doth restore  
Their riches, and their honours he makes more,  
On Artabaces more than all bestowed,  
For his fidelity to's Master showed.  
Thalestris Queen of th' Am●●s now brought  
Her Train to Alexander, (as 'tis thought)  
Though most of reading best and soundest mind,  
Such Country there, nor yet such people find.  
Then tell her errand, we had better spare  
To th' ignorant, her title will declare:  
As Alexander in his greatness grows,  
So daily of his virtues doth he lose.  
He baseness counts, his former Clemency,  
And not beseeming such a dignity;  
His past sobriety doth also ●ate,  
As most incompatible to his State▪  
His temperance is but a sordid thing,  
No ways becoming such a mighty King  
His greatness now he takes to represent  
His fancied Gods above the Firmament.  
And such as showed but reverence before,  
Now are commanded strictly to adore;  
With Persian Robes himself doth dignify,  
Charging the same on his nobility,  
His manners habit, gestures, all did fashion  
After that conquered and luxurious Nation.  
His Captains that were virtuously inclined,  
Grieved at this change of manners and of mind  
The ruder sort did openly deride,  
His feigned Deity and foolish pride;  
The certainty of both comes to his Ears,  
But yet no notice takes of what he hears:  
With those of worth he still desires esteem,  
So heaps up gifts his credit to redeem  
And for the rest new wars and travails finds,  
That other matters might take up their minds,  
And hearing Bessus, makes himself a King,  
Intends that Traitor to his end to bring.  
Now that his Host from luggage might be free,  
And with his burden no man burdened be,  
Commands forthwith each man his fardel bring,  
Into the market place before the King;  
Which done sets fire upon those goodly spoils,  
The recompense of travails wars and toils.  
And thus unwisely in a mading fume,  
The wealth of many Kingdoms did consume,  
But marvel 'tis that without mutiny,  
The Soldiers should let pass this injury;  
Nor won●er less to Readers may it bring,  
Here to observe the rashness of the King.  
Now with his Army doth he post away  
False Bessus to find out in Bactria:  
But much distressed for water in their march,  
The drought and heat their bodies sore did parch.  
At length they came to th' river Oxus brink,  
Where so immoderately these thirsty drink,  
Which more mortality to them did bring,  
Then all their wars against the Persian King.  
Here Alexander's almost at a stand,  
To pass the River to the other land.  
For boats here's none, nor near it any wood,  
To make them Rafts to waste them o'er the flood:  
But he that was resolved in his mind,  
Would without means some transportation find.  
Then from the Carriages the hides he takes,  
And stuffing them with straw, he bundles makes.  
On these together tied, in six day's space,  
They all pass over to the other place.  
Had Bessus had but valour to his will,  
With little pain there might have kept them still:  
But Coward durst not fight, nor could he fly,  
Hated of all for's former treachery,  
Is by his own now bound in iron chains,  
A Collar of the same, his neck contains.  
And in this sort they rather drag then bring  
This Malefactor vile before the King,  
Who to Darius' brother gives the wretch,  
With racks and tortures every limb to stretch.  
Here was of Greeks a town in Bactria,  
Whom Xerxes from their Country led away,  
These not a little ●oy'd this day to see,  
Wherein their own had got the sovereignty  
And now revived, with hopes held up their head  
From bondage long to be Enfranchised.  
But Alexander puts them to the sword.  
Without least cause from them in deed or word;  
Nor Sex, nor age, nor one, nor other spared,  
But in his cruelty alike they shared:  
Nor reason could he give for this great wrong,  
But that they had forgot their mother tongue.  
While thus some time he spent in B●ctria,  
And in his camp strong and securely lay▪  
Down from the mountains twenty thousand came  
And there most fiercely set upon the am:  
Repelling these, two marks of honour got  
Imprinted in his leg, by arrows shot.  
The Bactrians against him now rebel;  
But he their stubborness in time doth quell.  
From hence he to Jaxarta River goes  
Where Scythians rude his army doth oppose,  
And with their outcries in an hideous sort  
Beset his camp or military court,  
Of darts and arrows, made so little spare,  
They flew so thick they seemed to dark the air●  
But soon his soldiers forced them to a flight,  
Their nakedness could not endure their might▪  
Upon this river's bank in seventeen days  
A goodly City doth completely raise,  
Which Alexander he doth likewise name,  
And sixty furlongs could but round the same▪  
A third Supply Antipater now sent,  
Which did his former forces much augment;  
And being one hundred twenty thousand strong;  
He enters then the Indian Kings among:  
Those that submit he gives them rule again,  
Such as do not both them and theirs are slain.  
His wars with sundry nations I'll omit,  
And also of the Mallians what is writ.  
His Fights, his dangers, and the hurts he had,  
How to submit their necks at last they're glad.  
To Nis● goes by Bacchus built long since,  
Whose feasts are celebrated by this prince;  
Nor had that drunken god one who would take  
His Liquors more devoutly for his sake.  
When thus ten days his brain with wine he'd soaked,  
And with delicious meats his palate choked:  
To th' River Indus next his course he bends,  
Boats to prepare▪ Ephestion first he ●ends,  
Who coming thither long before his Lord,  
Had to his mind made all things to accord,  
The vessels ready were at his command,  
And Omph●● King of that part of the land,  
Through his persuasion Alexander meets,  
And as his sovereign Lord him humbly greets  
Fifty six Elephants he brings to's hand,  
And tenders him the strength of all his land;  
Presents himself first with a golden crown,  
Then eighty talents to his captains down:  
But Alexander made him to behold  
He glory sought, no silver nor no gold;  
His presents all with thanks he did restore,  
And of his own a thousand talents more.  
Thus all the Indian Kings to him submit,  
But Porus stout, who will not yield as yet:  
To him doth Alexander thus declare,  
His pleasure is that forthwith he repair  
Unto his Kingdom's bor●ers and as due,  
His homage to himself as Sovereign do:  
But kingly Porus this brave answer sent,  
That to attend him there was his intent,  
And come as well provided as he could,  
But for the rest, his sword advise him should.  
Great Alexander vexed at this reply,  
Did more his valour then his crown envy,  
Is now resolved to pass Hydaspes' flood,  
And there by force his sovereignty make good.  
Stout Porus on the banks doth ready stand  
To give him welcome when he comes to land.  
A potent army with him like a King,  
And ninety Elephants for war did bring:  
Had Alexander such resistance seen  
On Tigris side, here now he had not been.  
Within this spacious River deep and wide  
Did here and there Isles full of trees abide.  
His army Alexander doth divide  
With Ptolemy sends part to th' other side▪  
Porus encounters them and thinks all's there,  
When covertly the rest get o'er else where,  
And whilst the first he valiantly assailed,  
The last set on his back, and so prevailed.  
Yet work enough here Alexander found,  
For to the last stout Porus kept his ground:  
Nor was't dishonour at the length to yield,  
When Alexander strives to win the field.  
The kingly Captive 'fore the Victor's brought,  
In looks or gesture not abased ought,  
But him a Prince of an undaunted mind  
Did Alex●nder by his answers find:  
His fortitude his royal foe commends,  
Restores him and his bounds farther extends.  
Now eastward Alexander would go still,  
But so to do his soldiers had no will,  
Long with excessive travails wearied,  
Can by no means be farther drawn or led,  
Yet that his fame might to posterity  
Be had in everlasting memory  
Doth for his Camp a greater circuit take,  
And for his soldiers larger Cabins make.  
His mangers he erected up so high  
As never horse his Provender could eye.  
Huge bridles made, which here and there he left,  
Which might be found, and for great wonders kept:  
Twelve altars then for monuments he rears,  
Whereon his acts and travels long appears.  
But doubting wearing time might these decay,  
And so his memory would fade away,  
He on the fair Hydaspes pleasant side,  
Two Cities built, his name might there abide,  
First Nicaea, the next Bucephal●n,  
Where he entombed his stately Stallion.  
His fourth and last supply was hither sent,  
Then down Hydaspes with his Fleet he went;  
Some time he after spent upon that shore,  
Whether Ambassadors, ninety or more,  
Came with submission from the Indian Kings,  
Bringing their presents rare and precious things,  
These all he feasts in state on beds of gold,  
His Furniture most sumptuous to behold;  
His meat & drink, attendants, every thing,  
To th' utmost showed the glory of a King.  
With rich rewards he sent them home again,  
Acknowledged their Master's sovereign;  
Then sailing South, and coming to that shore,  
Those obscure Nations yielded as before:  
A City here he built, called by his Name,  
Which could not sound too oft with too much fame  
Then sailing by the mouth of Indus flood,  
His Galleys stuck upon the flats and mud;  
Which the stout Macedonians amazed sore,  
Deprived at once the use of Sail and Oar:  
Observing well the nature of the Tide,  
In those their fears they did not long abide.  
Passing fair Indus mouth his course he steered  
To th' coast which by Euphrates mouth appeared;  
Whose inlets near unto, he winter spent,  
Unto his starved Soldiers small content,  
By hunger and by cold so many flain,  
That of them all the fourth did scarce remain.  
Thus winter, Soldiers, and provisions spent,  
From hence he then unto Gedrosia went.  
And thence he marched into Carmania,  
And so at length drew near to Persia,  
Now through these goodly Countries as he passed,  
Much time in feasts and rioting did waste;  
Then visits Cyrus' Sepulchre in's way,  
Who now obscure at ●assa●ardis lay:  
Upon his Monument his Robe he spread,  
And set his Crown on his supposed head.  
From hence to Babylon, some time there spent,  
He at the last to royal Shusha● went;  
A wedding Feast to's Nobleses then he makes,  
And S●aty●a, Dar●us daughter takes,  
Her Sister gives to his Ephestian dear,  
That by this match he might be yet more near;  
He fourscore Persia Ladies also gave,  
At this same time unto his Captains brave:  
Six thousand guests unto this Feast invites,  
Whose Senses all were glutted with delights.  
It far exceeds my mean abilities  
To shadow forth these short felicities,  
Spectators here could scarce relate the story,  
They were so rapt with this external glory:  
If an Ideal Paradise a man would frame,  
He might this Feast imagine by the same;  
To every guess a cup of gold he sends,  
So after many days the Banquet ends.  
Now Alexander's conquests all are done,  
And his long Travails past and overgone;  
His virtues dead, buried, and quite forgot,  
But vice remains to his Eternal blot.  
'Mongst those that of his cruelty did taste,  
Philotus was not least, nor yet the last,  
Accused because he did not certify  
The King of treason and conspiracy:  
Upon suspicion being apprehended,  
Nothing was proved wherein he had offended  
But silence, which was of such consequence,  
He was judged guilty of the same offence,  
But for his father's great deserts the King  
His royal pardon gave for this soul thing.  
Yet is Phylotas unto judgement brought,  
Must suffer, not for what is proved, but thought.  
His master is accuser, judge and King,  
Who to the height doth aggravate each thing,  
Inveighs against his father now absent,  
And's brethren who for him their lives had spent.  
But Philotas his unpardonable crime,  
No merit could obliterate, or time:  
He did the Oracle of Jove deride,  
By which his Majesty was diefied.  
Philotas thus o'ercharged with wrong and grief  
Sunk in despair without hope of Relief,  
Feign would have spoke and made his own defence,  
The King would give no car, but went from thence  
To his malicious Foes delivers him,  
To wreak their spite and hate on every limb.  
Philotas after him sends out this cry,  
O Alexander, thy free clemency  
My foes exceeds in malice, and their hate  
Thy kingly word can easily terminate.  
Such torments great as wit could worst invent,  
Or flesh and life could bear, till both were spent  
Were now inflicted on Parmenio's son  
He might accuse himself, as they had done,  
At last he did, so they were justified,  
And told the world that for his guilt he died.  
But how these Captains should, or yet their master  
Look on Parmenio, after this disaster  
They knew not, wherefore best now to be done,  
Was to dispatch the father as the son.  
This sound advice at heart pleased Alexander,  
Who was so much engaged to this Commander,  
As he would ne'er confess, nor yet reward,  
Nor could his Captains bear so great regard:  
Wherefore at once, all these to satisfy,  
It was decreed Parmenio should die:  
Polidamus, who seemed Parmenio's friend  
To do this deed they into Media send;  
He walking in his garden to and fro.  
Fearing no harm, because he none did do,  
Most wickedly was slain without least crime,  
(The most renowned captain of his time)  
This is Parmenio who so much had done  
For Philip dead, and his surviving son,  
Who from a petty King of Macedon  
By him was set upon the Persian throne,  
This that Parmenio who still overcame,  
Yet gave his Master the immortal fame,  
Who for his prudence, valour, care and trust  
Had this reward, most cruel and unjust.  
The next, who in untimely death had part,  
Was one of more esteem, but less desert;  
Clitus beloved next to Ephestian,  
And in his cups his chief companion;  
When both were drunk, Clitus was wont to jeer,  
Alexander to rage, to kill, and swear;  
Nothing more pleasing to mad Clitus tongue,  
Then's Master's Godhead to defy and wrong;  
Nothing touched Alexander to the quick,  
Like this against his Deity to kick:  
Both at a Feast when they had tippled well,  
Upon this dangerous Theme fond Clitus fell;  
From jest to earnest, and at last so bold,  
That of Parmenio's death him plainly told.  
Which Alexander's wrath incensed so high,  
Nought but his life for this could satisfy;  
From one stood by he snatched a partisan,  
And in a rage him through the body ran.  
Next day he tore his face for w●at he'd done,  
And would have slain himself for Clitus gone:  
This pot Companion he did more bemoan,  
Then all the wrongs to brave Parmenio done.  
The n●x of worth that suffered after these,  
Was learned, virtuous, wise Calisthenes,  
Who loved his Master more than did the rest,  
As did appear, in flattering him the least;  
In his esteem a God he could not be,  
Nor would adore him for a Deity:  
For this alone and for no other cause,  
Against his Sovereign, or against his Laws,  
He on the Rack his Limbs in pieces rend,  
Thus was he tortured till his life was spent.  
Of this unkingly act doth Seneca  
This censure pass, and not unwisely say,  
Of Alexander this th' eternal crime,  
Which shall not be obliterate by time.  
Which virtues fame can ne'er redeem by far,  
Nor all felicity of his in war  
When e'er 'tis said he thousand thousands slew,  
Yea, and Calisthenes to death he drew.  
The mighty Persian King he overcame,  
Yea, and he killed Calist●h●n●s of fame.  
All Countries, Kingdoms, Provinces, he won  
From Hellispont, to th' farthest Ocean.  
All this he did, who knows ' not to be true?  
But yet withal, Catisthenes he slew.  
From Macedon, his Empire did extend  
Unto the utmost bounds o'th' orient:  
All this he did, yea, and much more, 'tis true,  
But yet withal, Catisthenes he slew.  
Now Alexander goes to Media,  
Finds there the want of wise Parmenio;  
Here his chief favourite Ephestian dies,  
He celebrates his mournful obsequies:  
Hangs his Physician, the Reason why  
He suffered, his friend Ephestian die.  
This act (methinks) his Godhead should a shame,  
To punish where himself deserved blame;  
Or of necessity he must imply,  
The other was the greatest Deity.  
The Mules and Horses are for sorrow shorn,  
The battlements from off the walls are torn.  
Of stately Ecbatane who now must show,  
A rueful face in this so general woe;  
Twelve thousand Talents also did intent,  
Upon a sumptuous monument to spend:  
What e'er he did, or thought not so content,  
His messenger to Jupiter he sent,  
That by his leave his friend Ephestion,  
Among the Demy Gods they might enthrone.  
From Media to Babylon he went,  
To meet him there t' Antipater he'd sent,  
That he might act also upon the Stage,  
And in a Tragedy there end his age.  
The Queen Olimpias bears him deadly hate,  
Not suffering her to meddle with the State,  
And by her Letters did her Son incite,  
This great indignity he should requite;  
His doing so, no whit displeased the King,  
Though to his Mother he disproven the thing.  
But now Antipater had lived so long,  
He might well die though he had done no wrong;  
His service great is suddenly forgot,  
Or if remembered yet regarded not:  
The King doth intimate 'twas his intent,  
His Honour's an● his riches to augment;  
Of larger Provinces the rule to give,  
And for his Counsel near the King to live.  
So to be caught, Antipater ●s too wise,  
Parmenio's death's too fresh before his eyes;  
He was too subtle for his crafty so.  
Nor by his baits could be ensnared so:  
But his excuse with humble thanks he sends,  
His Age and journey long he then pretends;  
And pardon craves for his unwilling stay,  
He shows his grief, he's forced to disobey.  
Before his Answer came to Babylon.  
The thread of Alexander's life was spun;  
Poison had put an end to's days ('twas thought)  
By Philip and Cassander to him brought,  
Sons to Antipater, and bearers of his Cup,  
Lest of such like their Father chance to sup;  
By others thought, and that more generally,  
That through excessive drinking he did die:  
The thirty third of's Age do all agree,  
This Conqueror did yield to destiny.  
When this sad news came to Darius' Mother,  
She laid it more to heart, than any other,  
Nor meat, nor drink, nor comfort would she take,  
But pined in grief till life did her forsake;  
All friends she shuns, yea, banished the light.  
Till death enwrapped her in perpetual night.  
This Monarches same must last whilst world doth stand,  
And Conquests be talked of whilst there is land;  
His Princely qualities had he retained,  
Unparalled for ever had remained.  
But with the world his virtues overcame,  
And so with black beclouded, all his fame;  
Wise Aristotle Tutor to his youth.  
Had so instructed him in moral Truth▪  
The principles of what he then had learned  
Might to the last (when sober) be discerned.  
Learning and learned men he much regarded,  
And curious Artist evermore rewarded:  
The Illiads of Homer he still kept,  
And under's pillow laid them when he slept.  
Achilles' happiness he did envy,  
'Cause Homer kept his acts to memory.  
Profusely bountiful without desert,  
For such as pleased him had both wealth and heart  
Cruel by nature and by custom too,  
As oft his acts throughout his reign doth show:  
Ambitious so, that nought could satisfy,  
Vain, thirsting after immortality,  
Still fearing that his name might hap to die,  
And ●ame not last unto eternity.  
This Conqueror did o●t lament ('tis said)  
There were no more worlds to be conquered.  
This folly great Augustus did deride,  
For had he had but wisdom to his pride,  
He would have found enough there to be done,  
To govern that he had already won.  
His thoughts are perished, he aspires no more▪  
Nor can he kill or save as heretofore.  
A God alive, him all must Idolise,  
Now like a mortal helpless man he lies.  
Of all those Kingdom's large which he had got,  
To his Posterity remained no jot.  
For by that hand which still revengeth blood,  
None of his kindred, nor his race long stood:  
But as he took delight much blood to spill,  
So the same cup to his, did others fill.  
Four of his Captains now do all divide,  
As Daniel before had prophysied.  
The Leopard down the four wings 'gan to rise,  
The great horn broke, the less did tyrannise.  
What troubles and contentions did ensue  
We may hereafter show in season due.  

Aridaeus.  
Great Alexander dead, his Armies left,  
Like to that Giant of his Eye bereft;  
When of his monstrous bulk it was the guide,  
His matchless force no creature could abide.  
But by Ulysses having lost his sight,  
All men began straight to contemn his might;  
For aiming still amiss, his dreadful blows  
Did harm himself, but never reached his Foes,  
Now Court and Camp all in confusion be,  
A King they'll have, but who, none can agree;  
Each Captain wished this prize to bear away,  
But none so hardy found as so durst say:  
Great Alexander did leave Issue none,  
Except by Artabas●s daughter one:  
And Roxane fair whom late he married,  
Was near her time to be delivered.  
By nature's right these had enough to claim,  
But meaness of their mothers barred the same,  
Alleged by those who by their subtle Plea  
Had hope themselves to bear the Crown away.  
A Sister Alexander had, but she  
Claimed not, perhaps, her Sex might hindrance be.  
After much tumult they at last proclaimed  
His base born brother Aridaeus named,  
That so under his feeble wit and reign,  
Their ends they might the better still attain.  
This choice Perdiccas vehemently disclaimed,  
And Babe unborn of Roxane he proclaimed;  
Some wished him to take the style of King,  
Because his Master gave to him his Ring,  
And had to him still since Ephestion died  
More than to th' rest his favour testified.  
But he refused, with feigned modesty,  
Hoping to be elect more generally.  
He hold on this occasion should have laid,  
For second offer there was never made.  
'Mongst these contentions▪ tumults▪ jealousies,  
Seven days the corpse of their great master lies  
Untouched, uncovered slighted and neglected,  
So much these princes their own ends respected:  
A Contemplation to astonish Kings,  
That he who late possessed all earthly things,  
And yet not so content unless that he  
Might be esteemed for a Deity;  
Now lay a Spectacle to testify.  
The wretchedness of man's mortality.  
After some time, when stirs began to calm,  
His body did the Egyptians embalm;  
His countenance so lively did appear,  
That for a while they durst not come so near:  
No sign of poison in his entrails found,  
But all his bowels coloured, well and sound.  
●er●iccas seeing Arideus must be King  
Under his name began to rule each thing.  
His chief Opponent who Controlled his sway,  
Was M●●ager whom he would take away,  
And by a wile he got him in his power,  
So took his life unworthily that hour.  
Using the name and the command of th' King  
To authorise his acts in every thing.  
The princes seeing Perdiccas' power and pride,  
For their security did now provide.  
Antigonus for his share Asia takes,  
And Ptolemy next sure of Egypt makes:  
Se●●ucus afterward held Babylon,  
Antipater had long ruled Macedon.  
These now to govern for the king pretends,  
But nothing less each one himself intends.  
Perdiccas took no province like the rest,  
But held command of th' Army (which was best)  
And had a higher project in his head,  
His Master's sister secretly to wed:  
So to the Lady, covertly he sent,  
(That none might know, to frustrate his intent)  
But Cleopatra this Suitor did deny,  
For L●on●tus more lovely in her eye,  
To whom she sent a message of her mind,  
That if he came good welcome he should find.  
In these tumultuous days the thralled Greeks;  
Their Ancient Liberty afresh now seeks.  
And gladly would the yoke shake off, laid on  
Sometimes by Philip and his conquering son.  
The Athenians force Antipater to fly  
To Lamia where he shut up doth lie.  
To brave Crate●us then he sends with speed  
For succours to relieve him in his need.  
The like of Leonatus he requires,  
(Which at this time well suited his desires)  
For to Antipater he now might go,  
His Lady take in th' way, and no man know.  
Antiphilus the Athenian General  
With speed his Army doth together call,  
And Leonatus seeks to stop, that so  
He join not with Antipater their foe.  
The Athenian Army was the greater far,  
(Which did his Match with Cleopatra mar)  
For fight still, while there did hope remain  
The valiant Chief amidst his foes was slain.  
'Mongst all the princes of great Alexander  
For personage, none like to this Commander.  
Now to Antipater Craterus goes,  
Blocked up in Lamia still by his foes,  
Long marches through Cilicia he makes,  
And the remains of Leonatus takes:  
With them and his he into Grecia went,  
Antipater released from prisonment:  
After which time the Greeks did never more  
Act any thing of worth, as heretofore:  
But under servitude their necks remained,  
Nor former liberty or glory gained.  
Now died about the end of th' Lamian war  
Demosthenes, that sweet-tongueed Orator,  
Who feared Antipater would take his life  
For animating the Athenian strife:  
To end his days by poison, rather chose  
Then fall into the hands of mortal foes.  
Craterus and Antipater now join,  
In love and in affinity combine,  
Craterus doth his daughter ●kila wed  
Their friendship might the more be strengthened.  
Whilst they in Macedon do thus agree,  
In Asia they all asunder be.  
Perdiccas' grieved to see the princes bold  
So many Kingdoms in their power to hold,  
Yet to regain them, how he did not know,  
His soldiers 'gainst those captains would not go  
To suffer them go on as they begun,  
Was to give way himself might be undone.  
With Antipater to join he sometimes thought,  
That by his help, the rest might low be brought,  
But this again dislikes; he would remain,  
If not in stile, in deed a sovereign;  
(For all the princes of great Alexander  
Acknowledged for Chief that old Commander)  
Desires the King to go to Macedon,  
Which once was of his Ancestors the throne,  
And by his presence there to nullify  
The acts of his Viceroy now grown so high.  
Ant●gonus of treason first attaints,  
And summons him to answer his complaints.  
This he avoids, and ships himself and son,  
goes to Antipater and tells what●s done.  
He and Craterus, both with him do join,  
And 'gainst Perdiccas' all their strength combine.  
Brave Ptolemy, to make a fourth then sent  
To save himself from danger imminent.  
In midst of these garboils with wondrous state  
His master's Funeral doth celebrate:  
In Alexandria his tomb he placed,  
Which eating time hath scarcely yet defaced.  
Two years and more, since nature's debt he paid,  
And yet till now at quiet was not laid.  
Great love did Ptolemy by this act gain,  
And made the soldiers on his side remain.  
Perdiccas hears his foes are all combined,  
'Gainst which to go, is not resolved in mind.  
But first 'gainst Ptolemy he judged was best,  
Nearest unto him, and farthest from the rest,  
Leaves Eumenes the Asian Coast to free  
From the invasions of the other three,  
And with his army unto Egypt goes  
Brave Ptolemy to th' utmost to oppose.  
Perdiccas' surly carriage, and his pride  
Did alinate the soldiers from his side.  
But Ptolemy by affability  
His sweet demeanour and his courtesy,  
Did make his own, firm to his cause remain,  
And from the other side did daily gain.  
Perdiccas in his pride did ill entreat  
Python of haughty mind, and courage great.  
Who could not brook so great indignity,  
But of his wrongs his friends doth certify,  
The soldiers 'gainst Perdiccas' they incense,  
Who vow to make this captain recompense,  
And in a rage they rush into his tent,  
Knock out his ●●ains: to Ptolemy then went  
And offer him his honours, and his place,  
With stile of the Protector him to grace.  
Next day into the camp came Ptolemy,  
And is received of all most joyfully.  
Their proffers he refused with modesty,  
Yields them to python for his courte●●e.  
With what he held he was now more content,  
Then by more trouble to grow eminent.  
Now comes there news of a great victory  
That Eumenes got of the other three.  
Had it but in P●rdiccas life arrived,  
With greater joy it would have been received.  
Thus Ptolemy rich Egypt did retain,  
And Python turned to Asia again.  
Whilst Perdiccas encamped in Africa,  
Antigonus did enter Asia,  
And fain would Eumenes draw to their side,  
But he alone most faithful did abide:  
The other all had Kingdoms in their eye,  
But he was true to is master's family,  
Nor could Craterus, whom he much did love.  
From his fidelity once make him move:  
Two Battles fought, and had of both the best,  
And brave Craterus slew among the rest:  
For this sad strife he pours out his complaints,  
And his beloved foe full sore laments.  
I should but snip a story into bits  
And his great Acts and glory much eclipse,  
To show the dangers Eumenes befell,  
His stratagems wherein he did excel:  
His Policies, how he did extricate  
Himself from out of Lab'rinths' intricate:  
He that at large would satisfy his mind,  
In Plutarch's Lives his history may find.  
For all that should be said, let this suffice,  
He was both valiant, faithful, patiented, wise.  
Python now chose Protector of the state,  
His ru●e Queen Eurydice gins to ha●e,  
Sees Arrideus must not King it long,  
If once young Alexander grow more strong,  
But that her husband serve for supplement,  
To warm his seat, was never her intent.  
She knew her birth right gave her Macedon,  
Grandchild to him who once sat on that throne  
Who was Perdiccas, Philip's eldest brother,  
She daughter to his son, who had no other.  
Python's commands, as oft she countermands;  
What he appoints, she purposely withstands.  
He wearied out at last would needs be gone,  
Resigned his place, and so let all alone:  
In's room the soldiers chose Antipater,  
Who vexed the Queen more than the other far.  
From Macedon to Asia he came,  
That he might settle matters in the same.  
He placed, displaced, controlled ruled as he list,  
And this no man durst question or resist;  
For all the nobles of King Alexander  
Their bonnets veiled to him as chief Commander.  
When to his pleasure all things they had done,  
The King and Queen he takes to Macedon,  
Two sons of Alexander, and the rest,  
All to be ordered there as he thought best.  
The Army to Antigonus doth leave,  
And Government of Asia to him gave.  
And thus Antipater the groundwork lays,  
On which Antigonus his height doth raise,  
Who in few years, the rest so overtops,  
For universal Monarchy he hopes.  
With Eumenes he divers Battles fought,  
And by his slights to circumvent him sought:  
But vain it was to use his policy,  
'Gainst him that all deceits could scan and try.  
In this Epitome too long to tell  
How finely Eumenes did here excel,  
And by the self same Traps the other laid,  
He to his cost was righteously repaid.  
But while these Chieftains do in Asia fight,  
To Greece and Macedon let's turn our sight.  
When great Antipater the world must leave,  
His place to Polisperchon did bequeath,  
Fearing his son Cassander was unstaid,  
Too rash to bear that charge, if on him laid.  
Antigonus hearing of his decease  
On most part of Assyria doth seize.  
And Ptolemy next to encroach gins,  
All Syria and Phenicia he wins,  
Then Polisperchon begins to act in's place,  
Recalls Olimpias the Court to grace.  
Antipater had banished her from thence  
Into Epire for her great turbulence;  
This new Protector's of another mind,  
Thinks by her Majesty much help to find.  
Cassander like his ●ather could not see,  
This Polisperchons' great ability,  
Slights his Commands his actions he disclaims,  
And to be chief himself now bends his aims;  
Such as his Father had advanced to place,  
Or by his favours any way had graced  
Are now at the devotion of the Son,  
Pressed to accomplish what he would have done;  
Besides he was the young Queen's favourite,  
On whom ('twas thought) she set her chief delight:  
Unto these helps at home he seeks out more,  
Goes to Antigonus and doth implore,  
By all the Bonds 'twixt him and's Father passed,  
And for that great gift which he gave him last.  
By these and all to grant him some supply,  
To take down Polisperchon grown so high;  
For this Antigonus did need no spurs,  
Hoping to gain yet more by these new stirs,  
Straight furnished him with a sufficient aid,  
And so he quick returns thus well apaid,  
With Ships at Sea, an Army for the Land,  
His proud opponent hopes soon to withstand.  
But in his absence Polisperchon takes  
Such friends away as for his Interest makes  
By death by prison, or by banishment,  
That no supply by these here might be lent,  
Cassander with his Host to Grecia goes,  
Whom Polisperchon labours to oppose;  
But beaten was at Sea, and foiled at Land,  
Cassander's forces had the upper hand,  
Athens with many Towns in Greece beside,  
Firm (for his Father's sake) to him abide.  
Whilst ●ot in wars these two in Grecee remain,  
Antigonus doth all in Asia gain;  
Still labours Eumenes, would with him side,  
But all in vain, ●e faithful did abide:  
Nor Mother could nor Sons of Alexander,  
Put trust in any but in this Commander.  
The great ones now began to show their mind,  
And act as opportunity they find.  
Ari●aeus the scorned and simple King▪  
More then he bidden was could act no thing.  
Polisperchon for office hoping long,  
Thinks to enthrone the Prince when riper grown;  
Eurid●ce this injury disdains,  
And to Cassandar of this wrong complains.  
Hateful th●●●me and house of Alexander,  
Was to this proud vindicative Cassander;  
He still kept locked within his memory,  
His Father's danger, with his Family;  
Nor thought he that indignity was small,  
When Alexander knocked his head to th'wall.  
These with his love unto the amorous Queen,  
Did make him vow, her servant to be seen.  
Olimpias, Aridaeus deadly hates,  
As all her Husbands, Children by his mates,  
She gave him poison formerly ('tis thought)  
Which damage both to mind, and body brought;  
She now with Polisperchon doth combine,  
To make the King by force his Seat resign:  
And her young grandchild in his State enthrone,  
That under him, she might rule▪ all alone.  
For aid she goes t' Epire among her friends,  
The better to accomplish these her ends;  
Euri●ice hearing what she intends,  
In haste unto her friend Cassander sends,  
To leave his siege at Tegea, and with speed,  
To save the King and her in this their need:  
Then by entreaties, promises and Coin,  
Some forces did procure with her to join.  
Olimpias soon enters Macedon,  
The Queen to meet her bravely marches on,  
But when her Soldiers saw their ancient Queen,  
Calling to mind what sometime she had been;  
The wife and Mother of their famous Kings,  
Nor darts, nor arrows, now none shoots or flings.  
The King and Queen seeing their destiny,  
To save their lives t' Amphipolis do fly;  
But the old Queen pursues them with her hate,  
And needs will have their lives as well as State:  
The King by extreme torments had his end,  
And to the Queen these presents she did send;  
A Halter, cup of poison, and a Sword,  
Bids choose her death, such kindness she'll afford.  
The Queen with many a curse, and bitter check,  
At length yields to the Halter h●r fair neck;  
Praying that fatal day might quickly haste,  
On which Olimpias of the like might taste.  
This done the cruel Qu●en rests not content,  
'Gainst all that loved Cassander she was bend;  
His Brethren, Kinsfolk and his chiefest friends,  
That fell within her reach came to their ends:  
Digged up his brother dead, 'gainst natures right,  
And threw his bones about to show her spite:  
The Courtiers wondering at her furious mind,  
Wished in Epire she had been still confined.  
In Peloponesus then Cassander lay,  
Where hearing of this news he speeds away,  
With rage, and with revenge he's hurried on,  
To find this cruel Queen in Macedon;  
But being stopped, at straight Thermopoly,  
Sea passage gets, and lands in Th●●aly:  
His Army he divides, sends post away,  
Polisperchon to hold a while in play;  
And with the rest Olimpias pursues,  
For all her cruelty, to give her deuce.  
She with the chief o'th' Court to Pydna flies,  
Well fortified, (and on the Sea it lies)  
There by Cassander she's blocked up so long,  
Until the Famine grows exceeding strong,  
Her Cousin of Epire did what he might,  
To raise the Siege, and put her Poes' to flight.  
Cassander is resolved there to remain,  
So succours and endeavours proves but vain;  
Feign would this wretched Queen capitulate,  
Her foe would give no Ear, (such is his hate)  
The Soldiers pinched with this scarcity,  
By stealth unto Cassander layly fly;  
Olimpias means to hol● out to the last,  
Expecting nothing but of death to taste:  
But his occasions calling him away,  
giveth promise for her life, so wins the day.  
No sooner had he got her in his hand,  
But made in judgement her accusers stand;  
And plea● the blood of friends and kindreds spilt,  
Desiring justice might be done for guilt;  
And so was he acquitted of his word,  
For justice sake she being put to th' Sword:  
This was the end of this most cruel Queen,  
Whose fury scarcely paralleled hath been.  
The daughter sister, Mother, Wife to Kings,  
But Royalty no good conditions brings;  
To Husband's death ('tis thought) she gave consent,  
The murderer she did so much lament:  
With Garlands crowned his head, bemoaned his fates,  
His Sword unto Apollo consecrates.  
Her Outrages too tedious to relate,  
How for no cause but her inveterate hate;  
Her Husband's wives and Children after's death,  
Some slew, some fried, of others stopped the breath:  
Now in her Age she's forced to taste that Cup,  
Which she had others often made to sup.  
Now many Towns in Macedon suppressed,  
And P●llas fain to yield among the rest▪  
The Funerals Cassander celebrates,  
Of A●●daeus and his Queen with State▪  
Among their Ancestors by him they're laid,  
And shows of lamentation for them made.  
Old Thebes he then rebuilt so much of fame,  
And Cassandria raised after his name.  
But leave him building, others in their Urn,  
Let's for a while, now into Asia turn  
True Eumenes endeavours by all Skill,  
To keep Antigonus from Shushan still;  
Having command o'th' Treasure he can hire,  
Such as no threats, nor favour could acquire.  
In divers Battles he had good success,  
Antigonus came off still honourless;  
When Victor oft he'd been, and so might still,  
Peucestes did betray him by a wile.  
T' Antigonus, who took his Life unjust,  
Because he never would forgo his trust;  
Thus lost he all for his fidelity,  
Striving t' uphold his Master's Family.  
But to a period as that did haste,  
So Eum●nes (the prop) of death must taste;  
All Persia now Antigonus doth gain▪  
And Master of the Treasure sole remain:  
Then with Seleu●us straight at odds doth fall,  
And he for aid to Ptolemy doth call,  
The Princes all begin now to envy  
Antigonus, his growing up so high;  
Fearing his force, and what might hap e'er long,  
Enters into a Combination strong,  
S●●●c●●, ptolemy Cassander joins,  
Lysimachus to make a fourth combines:  
Ant●●onus desirous of the Greek●,  
To make Cassander odious to them seeks,  
Sends forth his declarations near and far,  
And clears what cause he had to make this war,  
cassanders outrages at large doth tell,  
Shows his ambitious practices as well.  
The mother of their King to death he'd put,  
His wife and son in prison close had shut:  
And aiming now to make himself a king,  
And that some title he might seem to bring,  
Thessalonica he had newly wed,  
Daughter to Philip their renowned head:  
Had built and called a City by his name.  
Which none e'er did, but those of royal fame:  
And in despite of their two famous Kings  
Hateful Olinthians to Greece rebrings.  
Rebellious Thebes he had re-edified,  
Which their late King in dust had damnified,  
Requires them therefore to take up their arms  
And to requite this traitor for these harms.  
Then Ptolemy would gain the Greeks likewise,  
And he declares the others injuries:  
First how he held the Empire in his hands,  
Seleueu● driven from Government and lands,  
The valiant Eumenes unjustly slain,  
And Lord of royal Shus●an did remain,  
Therefore requests their help to take him down  
Before he wear the universal Crown.  
These princes at the sea soon had a sight,  
Where great Antigonus was put to slight:  
His son at Gaza likewise lost the field,  
So Syria to Ptolemy did yield:  
And Seleucus recovers Babylon,  
Still gaining Countries eastward he goes on.  
Demetrius with Ptolemy did fight,  
And coming unawares, put him to flight;  
But bravely sends the prisoners back again,  
With all the spoil and booty he had ta'en.  
Courteous as noble Ptolemy, or more,  
Who at Gaza did the like to him before.  
Antigonus did much rejoice, his son  
With victory, his lost repute had won.  
At last these princes tired out with wars▪  
Sought for a peace, and laid aside their jars:  
The terms of their agreement, thus express  
That each should hold what now he did possess,  
Till Alexander unto age was grown,  
Who then should be installed in the throne.  
This touched Cassander sore▪ for what he'd done,  
Imprisoning both the mother and the son:  
He sees the Greeks now favour their young Prince  
Whom he in durance held, now and long since,  
That in few years he must be forced or glad,  
To render up such Kingdoms as he had;  
Resolves to quit his fears by one deed done,  
So puts to death the Mother and her Son.  
This Roxane for her beauty all commend,  
But for one act she did, just was her end.  
No sooner was great Alexander dead,  
But she Darius daughters murdered.  
Both thrown into a well to hid her blot,  
Perdiccas was her Partner in this plot.  
The heavens seemed slow in paying her the same;  
But at the last the hand of vengeance came▪  
And for that double fact which she had done,  
The life of her must go, and of her son  
Perdiccas had before for his amiss,  
But by their hands who thought not once of this.  
Cassander's deed the princes do detest,  
But 'twas in show; in heart it pleased them best.  
That he is odious to the world, they're glad:  
And now they were free Lords of what they had.  
When this foul tragedy was past and done,  
Polysperchon brings the other son  
Called Hercules, and elder than his brother,  
(But Olympian would prefer the other)  
The Greeks touched with the murder done of late,  
This Orphan prince began to compassionate,  
Begin to mutter much 'gainst proud Cassander,  
And place their hopes on th' heir of Alexander.  
Cassander feared what might of this onsue,  
So Polis●erchon to his counsel drew,  
And gives Peloponesus for his hire,  
Who slew the prince according to desire.  
Thus was the race and house of Alexander  
Extinct by this inhuman wretch Cassander.  
Antigonus, for all this doth not mourn,  
He knows to's profit▪ this at last will turn,  
But that some Title now he might pretend,  
To Cleopatra doth for marriage send;  
Lysimachus and Ptolemy the same,  
And lewd Cassander too, sticks not for shame:  
She then in Lydia at Sardis lay,  
Where by Embassage all these Princes pray.  
Choice above all, of Ptolemy she makes,  
With his Ambassador her journey takes;  
Antigonus Lieutenant stays her still,  
Until he further know his Masters will:  
Antigonus now had a Wolf by th' Ears,  
To hold her still, or let her go he fears.  
Resolves at last the Princess should be slain,  
So hinders him of her, he could not gain;  
Her women are appointed for this deed,  
They for their great reward no better speed:  
For by command, they straight were put to death,  
As vile Conspirators that stopped her breath.  
And now he hopes, he's ordered all so well,  
The world must needs believe what he doth tell;  
Thus Philip's house was quite extinguished,  
Except Cassander's wife who yet not dead.  
And by their means who thought of nothing loss,  
Then vengeance just▪ against them to express;  
Now blood was paid with blood for what was done  
By cruel Father, Mother cruel Son:  
Thus may we hear, and fear, and ever say,  
That hand is righteous still which doth repay.  
These Captains now the stile of Kings do take,  
For to their Crowns their's none can Title make;  
Demetrius first the royal stile assumed,  
By his Example all the rest presumed.  
Antigonus himself to ingratiate,  
Doth promise liberty to Athens State;  
With Arms and with provision stores them well,  
The better 'gainst Cassander to rebel.  
Dem●trius thither goes, is entertained  
Not like a King▪ but like some God they feigned;  
Most grossly base was their great Adulation,  
Who Incense burnt, and offered oblation:  
These Kings afresh fall to their wars again,  
Demetrius of Ptolemy doth gain.  
'Twould be an endless Story to relate  
Their several Battles and their several fate,  
Their fights by Sea, their victories by Land,  
How some when down, strait got the upper hand  
Antigonus and Seleucus then fight  
Near Ephesus, each bringing all his might,  
And he that Conqueror shall now remain,  
The Lordship of all Asia shall retain.  
This day 'twixt these two Kings ends all the strife,  
For here Antigonus lost rule and life:  
Nor to his Son, did e'er one foot remain  
Of those vast Kingdoms, he did sometimes gain.  
Demetrius with his Troops to Athens flies,  
Hopes to find succours in his miseries;  
But they adoring in prosperity,  
Now shut their gates in his adversity:  
He sorely grieved at this his desperate State  
Tries Foes, sigh friends will not compassionate.  
His peace he then with old Seleucus makes,  
Who his fair daughter Strotonica takes,  
Ant●ochus, S●leu●us, dear loved Son  
Is for this fresh young Lady quite undone;  
Falls so extremely sick, all feared his life▪  
Yet durst not say, he loved his Father's wife,  
When his disease the skilled Physician sound,  
His Father's mind he wittily did sound,  
Who did no sooner understand the same,  
But willingly resigned the beauteous Dame:  
Cassander now must die his race is run,  
And leaves the ill got Kingdoms he had won.  
Two Sons he left, born of King Philip's daughter,  
Who had an end put to their days by slaughter;  
Which should succeed at variance they fell,  
The Mother would, the youngest might excel:  
The eldest enraged did play the Viper's part,  
And with his Sword did run her through the heart:  
Rather than Philip's race should longer live,  
He whom she gave his life, her death shall give.  
This by Lysimacus was after slain,  
Whose daughter he not long before had ta'en;  
Demetrius is called in by th' youngest Son,  
Against ●●simachus who from him won.  
But he a Kingdom more than's friend did eye,  
Seized upon that, and slew him traitorously.  
Thus Philips and Cassander's race both gone,  
And so falls out to be extinct in one;  
And though Cassander died in his bed,  
His Seed to be extirpt, was destined;  
For blood which was decreed that he should spill,  
Yet must his Children pay for Father's ill;  
Jehu in killing Ana●'s house did well,  
Yet be avenged must blood of 〈◊〉.  
Demetrius thus Cassander's Kingdoms gains.  
And now in Macedon as King he reigns;  
Though men and money both he hath at will,  
In neither fin●s content if he sits still.  
That S●l●ucus holds Asia grieus hi● sore,  
Those Country's large his Fat●er got before.  
These to recover, musters all his might,  
And with his Son in Law will needs go fight;  
A mighty Navy rig'd, an Army stout,  
With these he hopes to turn the world about:  
Leaving Antigonus his eldest Son,  
In his long absence to rule Macedon.  
Demetrius with so many troubles met,  
As Heaven and Earth against him had been set▪  
Disaster on disaster him pursue,  
His story seems a Fable more than true:  
At last he's taken and imprisoned  
Within an Isle that was with pleasures fed,  
Enjoyed what ere beseemed his Royalty,  
Only restrained of his liberty:  
After three years he died▪ left what he'd won,  
In Greece unto Antigonus his Son.  
For his Posterity unto this day,  
Did ne'er regain one foot in Asia;  
His Body S●le●cus sends to his Son,  
Whose obsequies with wondrous pomp was done.  
Next died the brave and noble Pro●emp,  
Renowned for bounty, valour, clemency,  
Rich Egypt le●t, and what else he had won,  
To Philadelp●us his more worthy Son  
Of the old Heroes, now but two remain,  
Seleucus' and ●y●●machus these twain,  
Must needs go try their fortune and their might,  
And so Lysi●machus was slain in fight;  
'Twas no small joy unto Seliucus breast,  
That now he had out lived all the rest:  
Possession of Europe thinks to take▪  
And so himself the only Monarch make;  
Whil● with these hopes in Greece he did remain,  
He was by Ptolemy Ceraunus slain.  
The second Son of the first Ptolemy,  
Who for Rebellion unto him did fly;  
Seleucus was a Father and a friend,  
Yet by him had this most unworthy end.  
Thus with these Kingly Captains have we done,  
A little now how the Succession run,  
Antigonus, Seleucus and Cassander,  
With Ptolemy, reigned after Alexander;  
Cassander's Sons soon after's death were ●lain,  
So three Successors only did remain:  
Antigonus his Kingdoms lost, and life,  
Unto Seleucus, Author of that ●tri●e.  
His Son Demetrius, all Cassander's gains,  
And his posterity, the same retains;  
Demetrius Son was called Antigonus,  
And his again was named Demetrius.  
I must let pass those many Battles fought,  
Betwixt those Kings, and noble Pyrrhus stout,  
And his Son Alexander of Epire,  
Whereby immortal honour they acquire;  
Demetrius had Philip to his Son,  
(Part of whose Kingdoms Titus Quintius won)  
Philip had Perseus who was made a Thrale  
T● Emil●us the Roman General;  
Him with his Sons in Triumph lead did he,  
Such riches too as Rome did never see:  
This of Ant●gonus, his Seed's the ●ate,  
Whose Empire was subdued to th' Roman State.  
Longer Seleucus held the royalty,  
In Syria by his Posterity;  
Antiochus Soter his Son was named,  
To whom the old Berosus (so much famed,)  
His Book of Assurs Monarches dedicates  
Tells of their names, their wars, their riches, fates,  
But this is perished with many more,  
Which oft we wish was extant as before.  
Antiochus Theos was Soter's Son,  
Who a long war with Egypt's King begun;  
The Affinityes and Wars Daniel sets forth.  
And calls them there the Kings of South & North,  
This Th●os murdered was by his lewd wife,  
Seleucus reigned, when he had lost his life.  
A third Seleucus next sits on the Seat,  
And then Antiochus firnamed the great,  
Whose large Dominions after was made small,  
By Scipio the Roman General;  
Fourth Seleucus Antiochus succeeds,  
And next Epiphanes whose wicked deeds,  
Horrid Massacres, Murders, cruelties,  
Amongst the Jews we read in Maccabees.  
Antiochus Eupater was the next,  
By Rebels and Impostors daily vexed;  
So many Princes still were murdered,  
The Royal Blood was nigh extinguished;  
Then Tygranes the great Arm●niar King,  
To take the Government was called in,  
Lucullus, Him, (the Roman General)  
Vanquished in fight, and took those Kingdoms all;  
Of Greece and Syria thus the rule did end,  
In Egypt next▪ a little time we'll spend.  
First Ptolemy being dead, his famous Son  
Called Philadelphus, did possess the Throne.  
At Alexandria a Library did build,  
And with seven hundred thousand Volumes filled;  
The seventy two Interpreters did seek,  
They might translate the Bible into Greek.  
His Son was Evergetes the last Prince,  
That valour showed, virtue or excellence,  
Philopater was Evergetes Son,  
After Epiphanes sat on the Throne;  
Philometor, Evergetes again,  
And after him, did false Lathurus reign:  
Then Alexander in Lathur●s stead,  
Next Auletes, who cut off Pompey's head.  
To all these names, we Ptolemy must add,  
For since the first, they still that Title had.  
Fair Cleopatra next, last of that race,  
Whom Julius Caesar set in Royal place,  
She with her Paramour, Mark Anthony  
Held for a time, the Egyptian Monarchy,  
Till great Augustus had with him a fight  
At Actium, where his Navy ●s put to flight;  
He seeing his ho●our lost, his Kingdom end,  
Did by his Sword his life soon after send.  
His brave V●rago Asps sets to her Arms,  
To take her life, and quit her from all harms;  
For 'twas not death nor danger she did dread,  
But some disgrace in triumph to be led.  
Here ends at last the Grecian Monarchy,  
Which by the Romans had its destiny;  
Thus King & Kingdoms have their times & dates,  
Their stand, overturnings, bounds and fates:  
Now up now down now chief, & then brought under,  
The heavn's thus rule, to fill the world with wonder  
The Assyrian Monarchy long time did stand,  
But yet the Persian got the upper hand;  
The Grecian them did utterly subdue,  
And millions were subjected unto few:  
The Grecian longer than the Persian stood,  
Then came the Roman like a raging flood;  
And with the torrent of his rapid course,  
Their Crowns, their Titles, riches bears by force.  
The first was likened to a head of gold.  
Next Arms and breast of silver to behold,  
The third, Belly and Thighs of brass in sight,  
And last was Iron, which breaketh all with might;  
The stone out of the mountain than did rise,  
●nd smote those feet those legs, those arms & thighs  
Then gold silver, brass, Iron and all the store,  
Became like Chaff upon the threshing ●loor.  
The first a Lion, second was a Bear,  
The third a Leopard, which four wings did rear;  
The last more strong and dreadful than the rest,  
Whose Iron teeth devoured every Beast,  
And when he had no appetite to eat,  
The residue he stamped under feet;  
Yet shall this Lion, Bear, this Leopard, Ram,  
All trembling stand before the powerful Lamb.  
With these three Monarchies now have I done,  
But how the fourth, their Kingdoms from them won,  
And how from small beginnings it did grow,  
To fill the world with terror and with woe;  
My tired brain leavs to some better pen,  
This task befits not women like to men:  
For what is past, I blush, excuse to make,  
But humbly stand, some grave reproof to take;  
Pardon to crave for errors, is but vain,  
The Subject was too high beyond my strain,  
To frame Apology for some offence,  
Converts our boldness into impudence:  
This my presumption some now to requite,  
Ne suitor ultra crepidam may write.  
The End of the Grecian Monarchy.   

After some days of rest, my restless heart  
To finish what's begun, new thoughts impart,  
And maugre all resolves, my fancy wrought  
This fourth to th' other three, now might be brought:  
Shortness of time and inability.  
Will force me to a confused brevity.  
Yet in this Chaos, one shall easily spy  
The vast Limbs of a mighty Monarchy,  
What e'er is found amiss take in good part,  
As faults proceeding from my head, not heart:    

The Roman Monarchy, being the fourth and last, beginning Anno Mundi, 3213.  
STout Romulus, Rome's founder, and first King,  
Whom vestal Rhea to the world did bring,  
His Father was not Mars as some devised,  
But Aemulus in Armour all disguised:  
Thus he deceived his Niece, she might not know  
The double injury he then did do.  
Where sheperds once had Coats, & sheep their folds  
Where Swains & rustic Peasants kept their holds,  
A City fair did Romulus erect,  
The Mistress of the World, in each respect,  
His brother Rhemus there by him was slain,  
For leaping o'er the wall with some disdain.  
The stones at first was cemented with blood,  
And bloody hath it proved, since first it stood.  
This City built and Sacrifices done,  
A Form of Government, he next begun;  
A hundred Senators he likewise chose,  
And with the style of Patres, honoured those,  
His City to replenish, men he wants,  
Great privileges then to all he grants;  
That will within those strong built walls reside,  
And this new gentle Government abide.  
Of wives there was so great a scarcity,  
They to their neighbours sue for a supply;  
But all disdain Alliance, then to make,  
So Romulus was forced this course ro take:  
Great shows he makes at Tilt and Tournament,  
To see these sports, the Sabins all are bend.  
Their daughters by the Romans than were caught,  
Then to recover them a Field was fought;  
But in the end, to final peace they come,  
And Sabins as one people dwelled in Rome.  
The Romans now more potent begin to grow,  
And Feainates they wholly overthrow.  
But Romulus then comes unto his end.  
Some seigning to the Gods he did ascend:  
Others the seven and thirtyeth of his reign,  
Affirm, that by the Senate he was slain.  

Numa Pompilius.  
Numa Pompilius next chose they King,  
Held for his piety some sacred thing,  
To Janus he that famous Temple built;  
Kept shut in peace, set open when blood was spilt;  
Religious Rites and Customs instituted,  
And Priests and Flamines likewise he deputed,  
Their Augurs strange, their gestures and attire,  
And vestal maids to keep the holy fire.  
The Nymph Aegeria this to him told,  
So to delude the people he was bold:  
Forty three years he ruled with general praise,  
Accounted for a God in after days.   

Tullius Hostilius.  
Tullius Hostilius was third Roman King,  
Who Martial discipline in use did bring;  
War with the ancient Alban he did wage,  
This strife to end six brothers did engage.  
Three called Horatij on the Romans side,  
And Cu●tatii three Albans provide:  
The Romans conquer, th' other yield the day,  
Yet in their Compact, after false they play.  
The Romans sore incensed their General slay,  
And from old Alb● fetch the wealth away;  
Of Latin Kings this was long since the Seat,  
But now demolished, to make Rome great.  
Thirty two years did Tullus reign, then die.  
Left Rome in wealth and power still growing high.   

Ancus Martius.  
Next Ancus Martius sits upon the Throne,  
Nephew unto Pompilius dead and gone:  
Rome he enlarged, new built again the wall,  
Much stronger, and more beautiful withal;  
A sta●ely Bridge he over Tiber made.  
Of Boats and Oars no more they need the aid.  
Fair Ostia he built this Town, it stood  
Close by the mouth of famous Tyber ●oud,  
Twenty four years' time of his Royal race,  
Then unto death unwillingly gives place.   

Tarqvinius Priscus  
Tarquin a Greek at Corinth born and bred,  
Who from his Country for Sepition fled.  
Is entertained at Rome, and in short time.  
By wealth and favour doth to honour climb;  
He after Martius death the Kingdom had,  
A hundred Senators he more did add.  
Wars with the Latins he again renews,  
And Nations twelve of Tuscany subdues,  
To such rude triumphs as young Rome then had,  
Some State and splendour did this Priscus add:  
Thirty eight years (this stronger born) did reign,  
And after all, by Ancus Sons was slain.   

Servius Tullius.  
Next Servius Tullius gets into the Throne,  
Ascends not up By merits of his own,  
But by the favour and the special grace  
Of Tanquil late Queen, obtains the place.  
He ranks the people into each degree,  
As wealth had made them of ability;  
A general Muster takes, which by account,  
To eighty thousand Souls then did amount.  
Forty four years did Servius Tullius reign,  
And then by Tarquin Priscus Son was slain.   

Tarqvinius Superbus the last King of the Romans  
Tarquin the proud, from manners called so,  
Sat on the Throne, when he had slain his Foe.  
Sextus his Son did most unworthily,  
Lu●retia force, mirror of Chastity:  
She loathed so the fact, she loathed her life,  
And shed her guiltless blood with guilty knife  
Her Husband sore incensed to quit this wrong,  
With Junius Brutus rose, and being strong,  
The Tarquins they from Rome by force expel,  
In banishment perpetual to dwell;  
The Government they change, a new one bring,  
And people swear ne'er to accept of King.   

An Apology.  
To finish what's begun▪ was my intent,  
My thoughts and my endeavours thereto bend;  
Essays I many made but still gave out,  
The more I mused, the more I was in doubt:  
The subject large my mind and body weak,  
With many more discouragements did speak.  
All thoughts of further progress laid aside,  
Though oft persuaded, ●as oft denied,  
At length resolved, when many years had passed,  
To prosecute my story to the last;  
And for the same, I hours not few did spend,  
And weary lines (though lank) I many penned:  
But before I could accomplish my desire,  
My papers fell a prey to th' raging fire.  
And thus my pains (with better things) I lost,  
Which none had cause to wail, nor I to boast.  
No more I'll do sigh I have suffered wrack,  
Although my Monarchies their legs do lack:  
Nor matter is't this last, the world now sees,  
Hath many Ages been upon his knees.    

A Dialogue between Old England and New; concerning their present Troubles, Anno, 164●.  New-England. 
ALas dear Mother, fairest Queen and best,  
With honour, wealth, and peace, happy and blessed;  
What ails thee hang thy head, & cross thine arms?  
And sit i'th' dust, to sigh these sad alarms?  
What deluge of new woes thus over-whelme  
The glories of thy ever famous Realm?  
What means this wailing tone, this mournful guise?  
Ah, tell thy daughter, she may sympathise.  Old England. 
Art ignorant indeed of these my woes?  
Or must my forced tongue these griefs disclose?  
And must myself dissect my tattered state,  
Which 'mazed Christendom stands wondering at?  
And thou a Child, a Limb and dost not feel  
My fainting weakened body now to reel?  
This Physic purging potion, I have taken,  
Will bring consumption, or an Ague quaking,  
Unless some Cordial, thou fetch from high,  
Which present help may ease my malady.  
If I decease▪ dost think thou shalt survive?  
Or by my wasting state dost think to thrive?  
Then weigh our case, if it be not justly sad;  
Let me lament alone, while thou art glad.  New-England. 
And thus (alas) your state you much deplore  
In general terms, but will not say wherefore:  
What medicine shall I seek to cure this woe,  
If th' wound so dangerous I may not know.  
But you perhaps, would have me guess it out:  
What hath some H●ngist like that Saxon stout  
By fraud or force usurped thy flowering crown,  
Or by tempestuous wars thy si●kls trod down?  
Or hath Canutus, that brave valiant Dane  
The Regal peaceful Sceptre from thee ta'en?  
Or is't a Norman, whose victorious hand  
With English blood bedews thy conquered land?  
Or is't Intestine wars that thus offend?  
Do Maud and Stephen for the crown contend?  
Do Barons rise and side against their King,  
And call in foreign aid to help the thing?  
Must Edward be deposed? or is't the hour  
That second Richard must be clapped i'th' tower?  
Or is't the fatal jar, again begun  
That from the red white pricking roses sprung?  
Must Richmond's aid, the Nobles now implore?  
To come and break the Tusks of the Boar,  
If none of these dear Mother, what's your woe?  
Pray do you fear Spain's bragging Armado?  
Doth your Ally, fair France, conspire your wrack,  
Or do the Scots play false, behind your back?  
Doth Holland quit you ill for all your love?  
Whence is the storm from Earth or Heaven above?  
Is't drought, is't famine, or is't pestilence?  
Dost feel the smart, or fear the Consequence?  
Your humble Child entreats you, show your grief,  
Though Arms, nor Purse she hath for your relief,  
Such is her poverty▪ yet shall be found  
A Suppliant for your help, as she is bound.  Old England. 
I must confess some of those sores you name,  
My beauteous body at this present maim;  
But foreign foe, nor feigned friend I fear,  
For they have work enough (thou know'st) elsewhere  
Nor is it Alcies Son, nor Henry's daughter;  
Whose proud contention cause this slaughter,  
Nor Nobleses siding, to make John no King,  
French Jews unjustly to the Crown to bring;  
No Edward, Richard, to lose rule and life,  
Nor no Lancastrians to renew old strife:  
No Duke of ●ork, nor Earl of March to soil  
Their hands in kindred's blood whom they did foil  
No crafty Tyrant now usurps the Seat.  
Who Nephews slew that so he might be great;  
No need of Tudor, Roses to unite,  
None knows which is the red, or which the white;  
Spain's braving Fleet a second time is sunk,  
France knows how oft my fury she hath drunk:  
By Edward third and Henry fifth of fame.  
Her Lilies in mine Arms avouch the same.  
My Sister Scotland hurts me now no more.  
Though she hath been injurious heretofore;  
What Holland is I am in some suspense?  
But trust not much unto his excellence.  
For wants, sure some I feel, but more I fear,  
And for the Pestilence, who knows how near;  
Famine and Plague, two Sisters of the Sword,  
Destruction to a Land, doth soon afford:  
They're for my punishment ordained on high,  
Unless our tears prevent it speedily.  
But yet I Answer not what you demand.  
To show the grievance of my troubled Land?  
Before I tell th' Effect, I'll show the Cause  
Which are my sins the breach of sacred Laws,  
Idolatry supplanter of a Nation,  
With foolish Superstitious Adoration,  
Are liked and countenanced by men of might,  
The Gospel trodden down and hath no right▪  
Church Offices were sold and bought for gain,  
That Pope had hope to find, Rome here again,  
For Oaths and Blasphemies, did ever Ear.  
From Belzebub himself such language hear;  
What scorning of the Saints of the most high?  
What injuries did daily on them lie?  
What false reports, what nicknames did they take  
Not for their own, but for their Master's sake?  
And thou poor soul, wert jeered among the rest,  
Thy flying for the truth was made a jest.  
For Sabbath-breaking, and for drunkenness,  
Did ever land profaneness more express?  
From crying blood yet cleansed am not I,  
Martyrs and others, dying causelessly.  
How many princely heads on blocks laid dow●  
For nought but title to a fading crown?  
'Mongst all the crueltyes by great ones done  
Of Edward's youths, and Clarence hapless son,  
O Jane why didst thou die in flowering prime?  
Because of royal stem, that was thy crime.  
For bribery Adultery and lies.  
Where is the nation, I can't paralliz●  
With usury, extortion and oppression,  
These be the Hydra's of my stout transgression.  
These be the bitter fountains, heads and roots,  
Whence flowed the source, the sprigs, the boughs & fruits  
Of more than thou canst hear or I relate,  
That with high hand I still did perpetrate:  
For these were threatened the woeful day,  
I mocked the Preachers, put it far away;  
The Sermons yet upon Record do stand  
That cried destruction to my wicked land:  
I than believed not, now I feel and see,  
The plague of stubborn incredulity.  
Some lost their live, some in prison penned,  
Some fined from house & friends to exile went.  
Their silent tongues to heaven did vengeance cry.  
Who saw their wrongs & hath judged righteously  
And will repay it sevenfold in my lap:  
This is forerunner of my Afterclap.  
Nor took I warning by my neighbours falls,  
I saw sad Germanyes dismantled walls,  
I saw her people famished, Nobleses slain,  
Her fruitful land, a barren Heath remain.  
I saw unmoved, her Armies foiled and fled,  
Wives forced, babes tossed, her houses calcined.  
I saw strong Rochel yielded to her Foe,  
Thousands of starved Christians there also.  
I saw poor Ireland bleeding out her last,  
Such crueltyes as all reports have past;  
Mine heart obdurate stood not yet aghast.  
Now sip I of that cup, and justed may be  
The bottom dregs reserved are for me.  New-England. 
To all you've said, sad Mother I assent.  
Your fearful sins great cause there's to lament,  
My guilty hands in part, hold up with you,  
A Sharer in your punishments my due.  
But all you say amounts to this effect,  
Not what you feel, but what you do expect,  
Pray in plain terms, what is your present grief?  
Then let's join heads & hearts for your relief.  Old England. 
Well to the matter then, there's grown of late  
'Twixt King and Peers a Question of State,  
Which is the chief, the Law, or else the King.  
One said, it's he, the other no such thing.  
'Tis said, my better part in Parliament  
To ease my grouning Land, showed their intent,  
To crush the proud, and right to each man deal.  
To help the Church, and stay the Common-weal.  
So many Obstacles came in their way,  
As puts me to a stand what I should say;  
Old customs, new Prerogatives stood on,  
Had they ●ot held Law fast▪ all had been gone:  
Which by their prudence stood them in such stead  
They took high Straff●rd lower by the head.  
And to their Laud be't spoke, they held i'th' tower  
All England's Metropolitan that hour;  
This done, an act they would have passed fain,  
No Prelate should his Bishopric retain;  
Here tugged they hard (indeed,) for all men saw  
This must be done by Gospel▪ no● by Law.  
Next the Militia they urged sore,  
This was denied, (I need not say wherefore)  
The King displeased at York, himself absents,  
They humbly beg return, show their intents;  
The writing, printing, posting too and fro,  
Shows all was done, I'll therefore let it go.  
But now I come to speak of my disaster,  
Contention grown, 'twixt Subjects & their Master;  
They worded it so long, they fell to blows,  
That thousands lay on heaps, here bleeds my woes,  
I that no wars so many years have known,  
Am now destroyed and slaughtered by mine own;  
But could the Field alone this strife ●●cide,  
One Battle two or three I might abide:  
But these may be beginnings of more woe  
Who knows, but this may be my overthrow.  
Oh pity me in this sad perturbation,  
My plundered Towns, my houses devastation,  
My weeping Virgins and my young men slain;  
My wealthy trading fallen, my dearth of grain.  
The seed-times come, but ploughman hath no hope  
Because he knows not, who shall inn his Crop:  
The poor they want their pay, their children bread,  
Their woeful Mother's tears unpitied,  
If any pity in thy heart remain,  
Or any childlike love thou dost retain,  
For my relief, do what there lies in thee,  
And recompense that good I've done to thee.  New-England. 
Dear Mother cease complaints, & wipe your eyes,  
Shake off your dust, cheer up, and now arise,  
You are my Mother Nurse, and I your flesh,  
Your sunken bowels gladly would refresh,  
Your griefs I pity, but soon hope to see,  
Out of your troubles much good fruit to be;  
To see those latter days of hoped for good,  
Though now beclouded all with tears and blood:  
After dark Popery the day did clear,  
But now the Sun in's brightness shall appear.  
Blessed be the Nobles of thy noble Land,  
With ventured lives for Truth's defence that stand.  
Blessed be thy Commons, who for common good,  
And thy infringed Laws have boldly stood.  
Blessed be thy Counties, who did aid thee still,  
With hearts and States to testify their will.  
Blest be thy Preachers▪ who do cheer thee on,  
O cry the Sword of God and Gid●on;  
And shall I not on them wish M●ro's curse,  
That help thee not with prayers, Arms and purse?  
And for myself let miseries abound,  
If mindless of thy State I e'er be found.  
These are the days the Church's foes to crush,  
To root out Popelings head, tail, branch and rush;  
Let's bring Baal's vestments forth to make a fire,  
Their Mytires, Surplices, and all their Tire,  
Copes, Rotchets, Crossiers, and such empty trash,  
And let their Names consume, but let the flash  
Light Christendom, and all the world to see  
We hate Rome's whore, with all her trumpery.  
Go on brave Essex with a Loyal heart,  
Not false to King, nor to the better part;  
But those that hurt his people and his Crown,  
As duty binds, expel and tread them down.  
And ye brave Nobles chase away all fear,  
And to this hopeful Cause closely adhere;  
O Mother can you weep, and have such Peers,  
When they are gone, then drown yourself in tears  
If now you weep so much, that then no more  
The briny Ocean will o'erflow your shore.  
These, these are they I trust, with Charles our King,  
Out of all mists such glorious days shall bring;  
That dazzled eyes beholding much shall wonder  
At that thy settled peace, thy wealth and splendour.  
Thy Church and weal established in such manner▪  
That all shall joy, that thou display'dst thy Banner;  
And discipline erected so I trust,  
That nursing Kings shall come and lick thy dust:  
Then Justice shall in all thy Courts take place,  
Without respect of person, or of case;  
Then Bribes shall cease, & Suits shall not stick long  
Patience and purse of Clients oft to wrong:  
Then high Commissions shall fall to decay,  
And Pursivants, and Catchpoles want their pay.  
So shall thy happy Nation ever flourish,  
When truth & righteousness they thus shall nourish  
When thus in peace, thine Armies brave send out,  
To sack proud Rome, and all her Vassals rout;  
There let thy Name, thy fame, and glory shine,  
As did thine Ancestors in Palestine:  
And let her spoils full pay, with Interest be,  
Of what unjustly once she polled from thee.  
Of all the woes thou canst, let her be sped,  
And on her pour the vengeance threatened;  
Bring forth the Beast that ruled the World with's beck,  
And tear his flesh, & set your feet on's neck;  
And make his filthy Den so desolate,  
To th' stonishment of all that knew his state:  
This done with brandished Swords to Turkey go,  
For then what is't, but English blades dare do,  
And lay her waste for so's the sacred Doom,  
And do to Gog as thou hast done to Rome.  
Oh Abraham's see● lift up your heads on high,  
For sure the day of your Redemption's nigh;  
The Scales shall fall from your long blinded eyes,  
And him you shall adore who now despise,  
Then fullness of the Nations in shall flow,  
And Jew and Gentile to one worship go;  
Then ●ollows days of happiness and rest;  
Whose lot doth fall to live therein is blest:  
No Canaanite shall then be found i'th' Land,  
And holiness on horses bells shall stand.  
If this make way thereto, then sigh no more,  
But if at all, thou didst not see't before;  
Farewell dear Mother, rightest cause prevail,  
And in a while, you'll tell another tale.   

An Elegy upon that Honourable and renowned Knight Sir Philip Sidney, who was untimely slain at the Siege of Zutphan, Anno, 1586.  
WHen England did enjoy her Halsion days,  
Her noble Sidney wore the Crown of Bays;  
As well an honour to our British Land,  
As she that swayed the Sceptre with her hand;  
Mars and Minerva did in one agree,  
Of Arms and Arts he should a pattern be,  
Calli●pi with Terpsichor● did sing,  
Of Poesy, and of music, he was King;  
His Rhetoric struck Pol●mina dead,  
His Eloquence made Mercury wax red;  
His Logic from Euterpe won the Crown,  
More worth was his then Clio could set down.  
Thalia and Melpomene say truth,  
(Witness Arcadia penned in his youth,)  
Are not his tragic Comedies so acted.  
As if your ninefold wit had been compacted.  
To show the world, they never saw before  
That this one Volume should exhaust your store;  
His wiser days condemned his witty works,  
Who knows the spells that in his Rhetoric lurks,  
But some infatuate fools s●on caught therein,  
Fond Cupias Dame had never such a gin  
Which makes severer eyes but slight that story,  
And men of morose minds envy his glory:  
But he's a Beetle head that can't descry  
A world of wealth within that rubbish lie,  
And doth his name, his work his honour wrong,  
The brave refiner of our British tongue,  
That sees not learning, valour and morality,  
Justice, friendship, and kind hospitality,  
Yea and Divinity within his book,  
Such were prejudicated, and did not look.  
In all Records his name I ever see  
Put with an Epithet of dignity,  
Which shows his worth was great his honour such,  
The love his Country ought him, was as much.  
Then let none disallow of these my strains  
Whilst English blood yet runs within my veins.  
O brave Achilles, I wish some Homer would  
Engrave in Marble, with Characters of gold  
The valiant fe●s thou didst on Flanders coast,  
Which at this day fair Belgia may boast.  
The more I say, the more thy worth I slain,  
Thy fame and praise is far beyond my strain.  
O Zutphen, Zutphen that most fatal City  
Made famous by thy death, much more the pity:  
Ah! in his blooming prime death plucked this rose  
ere he was ripe, his thread cut Atropos.  
Thus man is born to die, and dead is he,  
Brave Hector, by the walls of Troy we see.  
O who was near thee but did sore repine  
He rescued not with life that life of thine:  
But yet impartial Fates this boon did give,  
Though Stancy died his valiant name should live:  
And live it doth in spite of death through fame,  
Thus being overcome, he overcame.  
Where is that envious tongue, but can afford  
Of this our noble Scipio some good word.  
Great Bartas this unto thy praise adds more,  
In sad sweet verse, thou didst his death deplore.  
And Phoenix Spencer doth unto his life,  
His death present in sable to his wife.  
Stella the fair▪ whose streams from Conduits fell  
For the sad loss of her dear Astrophel.  
Fain would I show how he fame's paths did tread,  
But now into such labyrinths I am lead,  
With endless turns, the way I'find not out,  
How to persist my Muse is more in doubt;  
Which makes me now with Silvester confess,  
But Sidney's Muse can sing his worthiness.  
The Muse's aid I craved▪ they had no will  
To give to their Detractor any quill,  
With high disdain, they said they gave no more,  
Since Sidney had exhausted all their store.  
They took from me the scribbling pen I had,  
(I to be eased of such a task was glad)  
Then to revenge this wrong, themselves engage,  
And drove me from Pa●nassus in a rage.  
Then wonder not if I no better sped,  
Since I the Muses thus have injured.  
I pensive for my fault sat down, and then  
Errata through their leave, threw me my pen,  
My Poem to conclude, two lines they deign  
Which writ, she bade returned to them again;  
So Sidneys fame I leave to England's Rolls,  
His bones do lie interred in stately Paul's.  

His Epitaph.  
Here lies in fame under this stone,  
Philip and Alexander both in one;  
Heir to the Muses, the Son of Mars in Truth,  
Learning, Valour, Wisdom all in virtuous youth,  
His praise is much, this shall suffice my pen,  
That Sidney died 'mong most renowned of men.    

In honour of Du Bartas, 1641.  
Among the happy wits this age hath shown.  
Great, dear, sweet Bartas thou art matchless known,  
My ravished Eyes and heart with faltering tongue,  
In humble wise have vowed their service long,  
But knowing th'task so great, & strength but small,  
Gave o'er the work before begun withal,  
My dazzled sight of late reviewed thy lines,  
Where Art, and more than Art, in nature shines,  
Reflection from their beaming Altitude,  
Did thaw my frozen hearts ingratitude;  
Which Rays darting upon some richer ground,  
Had caused flours and fruits soon to abound;  
But barren I my Dasey here do bring,  
A homely flour in this my latter Spring,  
If Summer, or my Autumn age do yield,  
Flours, fruits in Garden, Orchard, or in Field,  
They shall be consecrated in my Verse,  
And prostrate offered at great Bartas Hearse;  
My muse unto a Child I may compare,  
Who sees the riches of some famous Fair,  
He feeds his Eyes, but understanding lacks  
To comprehend the worth of all those knacks:  
The glittering plate and lewels he admires,  
The Hats and Fans, the Plumes and Ladies tires,  
And thousand times his mazed mind doth wish  
Some part (at least) of that brave wealth was his,  
But seeing empty wishes nought obtain,  
At night turns to his Mother's cot again,  
And tells her tales, (his full heart over-glad)  
Of all the glorious sights his Eyes have had:  
But finds too soon his want of Eloquence,  
The silly prattler speaks no word of sense,  
But seeing utterance fail his great desires,  
Sits down in silence, deeply he admires:  
Thus weak brained I, reading thy lofty stile,  
Thy profound learning, viewing other while;  
Thy Art in natural Philosophy,  
Thy Saint like mind in grave Divinity;  
Thy piercing skill in high Astronomy,  
And curious insight in Anatomy:  
Thy Physic, music and state policy,  
Valour in war, in peace good husbandry.  
Sure liberal Nature did with Art not small,  
In all the arts make thee most liberal.  
A thousand thousand times my senseless senses  
Moveless stand charmed by thy sweet influences;  
More senseless than the stones to Amphio●s Lute,  
Mine eyes are sightless, and my tongue is mute,  
My full astonished heart doth pant to break,  
Through grief it wants a faculty to speak:  
Volleys of praises could I echo then,  
Had I an Angel's voice, or Bartas pen:  
But wishes can't accomplish my desire,  
Pardon if I adore, when I admire.  
O France thou didst in him more glory gain  
Then in thy Martel, Pipin, Charlemagne,  
Then in St. Lewes, or thy last Henry Great,  
Who tamed his foes in wars, in blood and sweat.  
Thy fame is spread as far, I dare be bold,  
In all the Zones, the temperate hot and cold.  
Their Trophies were but heaps of wounded slain,  
Thine, the quintessence of an heroic brain.  
The oaken Garland ought to deck their brows,  
Immortal Bays to thee all men allows.  
Who in thy triumphs never won by wrongs,  
Leadest millions chained by eyes, by ears, by tongues  
Oft have I wondered at the hand of heaven,  
In giving one what would have served seven.  
If e'er this golden gift was showered on any,  
Thy double portion would have served many.  
Unto each man his riches is assigned  
Of Name, of State, of Body and of Mind:  
Thou hadst thy part of all, but of the last,  
O pregnant brain, O comprehension vast:  
Thy haughty Style▪ and rapted wit sublime  
All ages wondering at, shall never climb.  
Thy sacred works are not for imitation,  
But Monuments to future Admiration.  
Thus Bartas fame shall last while stars do stand,  
And whilst there's Air or Fire, or Sea or Land.  
But lest mine ignorance should do thee wrong,  
To celebrate thy merits in my Song.  
I'll leave thy praise to those shall do thee right,  
Good will, not skill, did cause me bring my Mite.  

His Epitaph.  
Here lies the Pearl of France, Parnassus Glory;  
The World rejoiced at's birth, at's death was sorry.  
Art and Nature joined, by heavens high decree  
Now showed what once they ought, Humanity:  
And Nature's Law, had it been revocable  
To rescue him from death, Art had been able.  
But Nature vanquished Art, so Bartas died,  
But Fame out-living both, he is revived.    

In Honour of that High and Mighty Princess Queen Elizabeth OF HAPPY MEMORY.  

The Proem.  
ALthough great Queen thou now in silence lie  
Yet thy loud Herald Fame doth to the sky  
Thy wondrous worth proclaim in every Clime,  
And so hath vowed while there is world or time.  
So great's thy glory and thine excellence,  
The sound thereof rapts every humane sense,  
That men account it no impiety,  
To say thou wert a fleshly Deity:  
Thousands bring offerings (though out of date)  
Thy world of honours to accumulate,  
'Mongst hundred Hecatombs of roaring verse,  
Mine bleating stands before thy royal Hearse.  
Thou never didst nor canst thou now disdain  
T' accept the tribute of a loyal brain.  
Thy clemency did yerst esteem as much  
The acclamations of the poor as rich,  
Which makes me deem my rudeness is no wrong,  
Though I resound thy praises 'mongst the throng.   

The Poem.  
No Phoenix pen, nor Spencer's poetry,  
No Speeds nor Cambdens learned History,  
Elizahs' works, wars praise, can e'er compact,  
The World's the Theatre where she did act.  
No memories nor volumes can contain  
The 'leven Olympiads of her happy reign:  
Who was so good, so just, so learned so wise,  
From all the Kings on earth she won the prize  
Nor say I more then duly is her due,  
Millions will testify that this is true.  
She hath wiped off th' aspersion of her Sex,  
That women wisdom lack to play the Rex:  
Spain, Monarch says not so, nor yet his host:  
She taught them better manners, to their cost.  
The Salic law, in force now had not been,  
If France had ever hoped for such a Queen.  
But can you Doctors now this point dispute,  
She's Argument enough to make you mute.  
Since first the sun did run his ne'er run race,  
And earth had once a year, a new old face,  
Since time was time, and man unmanly man,  
Come show me such a Phoenix if you can?  
Was ever people better ruled than hers?  
Was ever land more happy freed from stirs?  
Did ever wealth in England more abound?  
Her victories in foreign Coasts resound,  
Ships more invincible than Spain's her foe  
She wracked, she sacked, she sunk his Armado:  
Her stately troops advanced to Lisbons' wall  
Don Usum in's right there to install.  
She frankly helped, Franks brave distressed King,  
The States united now her same do sing,  
She their Protectrix was, they well do know  
Unto our dread Virago, what they owe.  
Her Nobles sacrificed their noble blood,  
Nor men nor Coin she spared to do them good.  
The rude untamed Irish, she did quell.  
Before her picture the proud Tyrone fell.  
Had ever prince such Counselors as she?  
Herself Minerva caused them so to be.  
Such Captains and such soldiers never seen,  
As were the Subjects of our Pallas Queen.  
Her Seamen through all straits the world did round;  
Terra incognita might know the sound.  
Her Drake came laden home with Spanish gold:  
Her Essex took Cades, their Herculean Hold:  
But time would fail me, so my tongue would to,  
To tell of half she did▪ or she could ●oe.  
Semiramis to her, is but obscure,  
More infamy than fame, she did procure.  
She built her glory but on Babel's walls,  
Worlds wonder for a while, but yet it falls.  
Fierce Tomris▪ (Cyrus' headsman) Scythians queen,  
Had put her harness off, had she but seen  
Our Amazon in th' Camp of Til●ury,  
Judging all valour and all Majesty  
Within that Princess to have residence,  
And prostrate yielded to her excellence.  
Dido first Foundress of proud Carthage walls,  
(Who living consummates her Funerals)  
A great E●iza▪ but compared with ours▪  
How vanisheth her glory, wealth and powers▪  
Profuse proud Cleopatra, whose wrong name,  
Instead of glory, proved her Country's shame:  
Of her what worth in Stories to be seen,  
But that she was a rich Egyptian Queen.  
Zenobya potent Empress of the East,  
And of all these, without compare the best,  
Whom none but great Aurelius could quell;  
Yet for our Queen is no fit Parallel.  
She was a Phoenix Queen, so shall she be,  
Her ashes not revived, more Phoenix she,  
Her personal perfections, who would tell,  
Must dip his pen in th' Heleconian Well,  
Which I may not, my pride doth but aspire  
To read what others writ, and so admire.  
Now say, have women worth? or have they none?  
Or had they some, but with our Queen is't gone?  
Nay Masculines, you have thus taxed us long,  
But she, though dead, will vindicate our wrong.  
Let such as say our Sex is void of Reason,  
Know 'tis a Slander now, but once was Treason.  
But happy England which had such a Queen;  
Yea happy, happy, had those days still been▪  
But happiness lies in a higher sphere,  
Then wonder not Eliza moves not here▪  
Full fraught with honour, riches and with day●  
She set, she set, like Titan in his rays.  
No more shall rise or set so glorious sun  
Until the heavens great revolution,  
If then new things their old forms shall retain,  
Eliza shall rule Albion once again.   

HER EPITAPH.  
Here sleeps THE Queen, this is the Royal Bed,  
Of th' Damask Rose, sprung from the white and red,  
Whose sweet perfume fills the all-filling Air:  
This Rose is withered, once so lovely fair.  
On neither tree did grow such Rose before,  
The greater was our gain, our loss the more.   

Another.  
Here lies the pride of Queens, Pattern of Kings,  
So blaze it Fame, here's feathers for thy wings.  
Here lies the envied, yet unparalled Prince,  
Whose living virtues speak, (though dead long since)  
If many worlds, as that Fantastic framed,  
In every one be her great glory famed▪    

david's Lamentation for Saul and Jonathan. 2. Sam. 1.19.  
ALas slain is the Head of Israel,  
Illustrious Saul whose beauty did excel,  
Upon thy places mountainous and high,  
How did the Mighty fall, and falling die?  
In Gath let not this things be spoken on,  
Nor published in streets of Askalon,  
Lest daughters of the Philistines rejoice,  
Lest the uncircumcised lift up their voice.  
O Gilbo Mounts, let never pearled dew,  
Nor fruitful showers your barren tops bestrew,  
Nor fields of offerings ever on you grow,  
Nor any pleasant thing e'er may you show;  
For there the Mighty Ones did soon decay,  
The shield of Saul was vilely cast away,  
There had his dignity so sore a foil,  
As if his head ne'er felt the sacred oil.  
Sometimes from crimson blood of ghastly slain,  
The bow of Jonathan ne'er turned in vain:  
Nor from the fat, and spoils of Mighty men  
With bloodless sword did Saul turn back again.  
Pleasant and lovely, were they both in life,  
And in their death was founnd no parting strife.  
Swifter then swiftest Eagles so were they,  
Stronger than Lions ramping for their prey.  
O Israel's Dames, o'erflow your beauteous eyes  
For valiant Saul who on Mount Gilbo lves,  
Who clothed you in Cloth of richest Dye,  
And choice delights, full of variety,  
On your array put ornaments of gold,  
Which made you yet more beauteous to behold.  
O! how in Battle did the mighty fall  
In midst of strength not succoured at all.  
O lovely Jonathan! how wast thou slain?  
In places high, full low thou didst remain.  
Distressed for thee I am, dear Jonathan,  
Thy love was wonderful, surpassing man,  
Exceeding all the love that's Feminine,  
So pleasant hast thou been, dear brother mine,  
How are the mighty fallen into decay?  
And warlike weapons perished away?   

To the Memory of my dear and ever honoured Father Thomas Dudley Esq Who deceased, July 31. 1653. and of his Age, 77.  
BY duty bound, and not by custom 〈◊〉  
To celebrate the praises of the dead,  
My mournful mind, sore pressed, in trembling verse  
Presents my Lamentations at his Hearse,  
Who was my Father, Guide, Instructor too,  
To whom I aught whatever I could do:  
Nor is't Relation near my hand shall tie;  
For who more cause to boast his worth than I?  
Who heard or saw▪ observed or knew him better?  
Or who alive then I, a greater debtor?  
Let malice by't, and envy knaw its fill.  
He was my Father, and I'll praise him still.  
Nor was his name, or life lead so obscure  
That pity might some Trumpeters procure.  
Who after death might make him falsely seem  
Such as in life, no man could justly deem.  
Well known and loved, where ere he lived by most  
Both in his native, and in foreign coast,  
These to the world his merits could make known,  
So needs no Testimonial from his own;  
But now or never I must pay my Sum;  
While others tell his worth, I'll not be dumb:  
One of thy Founders, him New-England know,  
Who stayed thy feeble sides when thou wast low▪  
Who spent his state, his strength, & years with care  
That After-comers in them might have share.  
True Patriot of this little Commonweal,  
Who is't can tax thee aught, but for thy zeal?  
Truth's friend thou wert, to errors still a foe,  
Which caused Apostates to malign so.  
Thy love to true Religion e'er shall shine,  
My Father's God, be God of me and mine.  
Upon the earth he did not build his nest,  
But as a Pilgrim what he had, possessed.  
High thoughts he gave no harbour in his heart,  
Nor honours puffed him up, when he had part:  
Those titles loathed, which some too much do love  
For truly his ambition lay above.  
His humble mind so loved humility,  
He left it to his race for Legacy:  
And oft and oft, with speeches mild and wise,  
Gave his in charge, that Jewel rich to prise.  
No ostentation seen in a●l his ways,  
As in the mean ones, of our foolish days,  
Which all they have, and more still set to view,  
Their greatness may be judged by what they show.  
His thoughts were more sublime, his actions wise,  
Such vanities he justly did despise.  
Nor wonder 'twas, low things ne'er much did move  
For he a Mansion had, prepared above.  
For which he sighed and prayed & longed full sore  
He might be clothed upon, for evermore.  
Oft spoke of death, and with a smiling cheer,  
He did exult his end was drawing near,  
Now fully ripe, as shock of wheat that's grown,  
Death as a Sickle hath him timely mown,  
And in celestial Barn ●ath housed him high,  
Where storms, nor showers, nor aught can damnify.  
His Generation served his labours cease;  
And to his Fathers gathered is in peace.  
Ah happy Soul, 'mongst Saints and Angels blest,  
Who after all his toil, is now at rest:  
His hoary head in righteousness was found:  
As joy in heaven on earth let praise resound.  
Forgotten never be his memory,  
His blessing rest on his posterity:  
His pious Footsteps followed by his race,  
At last will bring us to that happy place  
Where we with joy each others face shall see,  
And parted more by death shall never be.  

His Epitaph.  
Within this Tomb a Patriot lies  
That was both pious, just and wise,  
To Truth a shield, to right a Wall,  
To Sectaryes a whip and Maul,  
A Magazine of History,  
A Prizer of good Company  
In manners pleasant and severe  
The Good him loved, the bad did fear,  
And when his time with years was spent  
If some rejoiced, more did lament.    

An EPITAPH On my dear and ever honoured Mother Mrs. Dorothy Dudley, Who deceased Decemb. 27. 1643. and of her age, 61:  
Here lies,  
A Worthy Matron of unspotted life,  
A loving Mother and obedient wife,  
A friendly Neighbour, pitiful to poor,  
Whom oft she fed, and clothed with her store;  
To Servants wisely awful, but yet kind,  
And as they did, so they reward did find:  
A true Instructor of her Family,  
The which she ordered with dexterity.  
The public meetings ever did frequent,  
And in her Closet constant hours she spent;  
Religious in all her words and ways,  
Preparing still for death, till end of days:  
Of all her Children, Children, lived to see,  
Then dying, left a blessed memory.   

CONTEMPLATIONS.  

SOme time now passed in the Autumnal Tide,  
When Phoebus wanted but one hour to bed,  
The trees all richly clad, yet void of pride,  
Where gilded o'er by his rich golden head.  
Their leaves & fruits seemed painted, but was true  
Of green, of red, of yellow, mixed hue,  
Rapt were my senses at this delectable view.   

2  
I witted not what to wish, yet sure thought I,  
If so much excellence abide below;  
How excellent is he that dwells on high?  
Whose power and beauty by his works we know.  
Sure he is goodness, wisdom glory, light,  
That hath this under world so richly dight:  
More Heaven than Earth was here▪ no winter & no night.   

3  
Then on a stately Oak I cast mine Eye,  
Whose ruffling top the Clouds seemed to aspire;  
How long since thou wast in thine Infancy?  
Thy strength, and stature, more thy years admire▪  
Hath hundred winters past since thou wast born●  
Or thousand since thou brakest thy shell of horn,  
If so, all these as nought, Eternity doth scorn.   

4  
Then higher on the glistering Sun I gazed,  
Whose beams was shaded by the leavy Tree,  
The more I looked, the more I grew amazed,  
And softly said, what glory's like to thee?  
Soul of this world, this Universes Eye,  
No wonder, some made thee a Deity:  
Had I not better known, (alas) the same had I.   

5  
Thou as a Bridegroom from thy Chamber r●●hes,  
And as a strong man, joys to run a race,  
The morn doth usher thee, with smiles & blushes,  
The Earth reflects her glances in thy face.  
Birds infects, Animals with Vegative,  
Thy heart from death and dulness doth revive:  
And in the darksome womb of fruitful nature dive.   

6  
Thy swift Annual, and diurnal Course,  
Thy daily straight, and yearly obliqne path,  
Thy pleasing fervour, and thy scorching force,  
All mortals here the feeling knowledge hath  
Thy presence makes it day, thy absence night,  
Quaternal Seasons caused by thy might:  
Hail Creature, full of sweetness, beauty & delight.   

7  
Art thou so full of glory, that no Eye  
Hath strength, thy ●hining Rays once to behold?  
And is thy splendid Throne erect so high?  
As to approach it, can no earthly mould.  
How full of glory than must thy Creator be?  
Who gave this bright light lustre unto thee:  
Admired, adored for ever, be that Majesty.   

8  
Silent alone, where none or saw, or heard,  
In pathless paths I lead my wand'ring feet,  
My humble Eyes to lofty Skies I reared  
To sing some Song, my mazed Muse thought meet.  
My great Creator I would magnify,  
That nature had, thus decked liberally:  
But Ah, and Ah, again, my imbecility!   

9  
I heard the merry grasshopper then sing,  
The black clad Cricket, bear a second part,  
They kept one tune, and played on the same string,  
Seeming to glory in their little Art.  
Shall Creatures abject, thus their voices raise?  
And in their kind resound their maker's praise:  
Whilst I as mute, can warble forth no higher lays.   

10  
When present times look back to Ages past,  
And men in being fancy those are dead,  
It makes things gone perpetually to last  
And calls back months and years that long since fled  
It makes a man more aged in conceit,  
Then was Methusilah, or's grandsire great:  
While of their persons & their acts his mind doth treat.   

11  
Sometimes in Eden fair, he seems to be,  
Sees glorious Adam there made Lord of all,  
Fancies the Apple, dangle on the Tree,  
That turned his Sovereign to a naked thrall▪  
Who like a miscreant's driven from that place,  
To get his bread with pain, and sweat of face▪  
A penalty imposed on his backsliding Race.   

12  
Here sits our Grandam in retired place,  
And in her lap, her bloody Cain new born,  
The weeping Imp oft looks her in the face.  
Bewails his unknown hap, and fate forlorn;  
His Mother sighs, to think of Paradise,  
And how she lost her bliss, to be more wise,  
Believing him that was, and is, Father of lies.   

13  
Here Cain and Abel come to sacrfiice,  
Fruits of the Earth, and Fatlings each do bring,  
On Abel's gift the fire descends from Skies,  
But no such sign on false Cain's offering;  
With sullen hateful looks he goes his ways.  
Hath thousand thoughts to end his brother's days,  
Upon whose blood his future good he hopes to raise   

14  
There Abel keeps his sheep, no ill he thinks,  
His brother comes, then acts his fratricide,  
The Virgin Earth, of blood her first draught drinks  
But since that time she often hath been cloyed;  
The wretch with ghastly face and dreadful mind,  
Thinks each he sees will serve him in his kind,  
Though none on Earth but kindred near then could he find.   

15  
Who fancies not his looks now at the Bar,  
His face like death, his heart with horror fraught,  
Nor Malefactor ever ●elt like war,  
When deep despair, with wish of life hath sought,  
Branded with guilt and crushed with triple woes,  
A Vagabond to Land of N●d he goes  
A City builds, that walls might him secure from foes.   

16  
Who thinks not oft upon the Father's ages.  
Their long descent how nephews sons they saw,  
The starry observations of those Sages,  
And how their precepts to their sons were law,  
How Adam signed to see his Progeny,  
Clothed all in his black sinful Livery,  
Who neither guilt, nor yet the punishment could fly.   

17  
Our Life compare we with their length of days  
Who to the tenth of theirs doth now arrive?  
And though thus short, we shorten many ways,  
Living so little while we are alive;  
In eating, drinking, sleeping, vain delight  
So unawares comes on perpetual night,  
And puts all pleasures vain unto eternal ●light:   

18  
When I behold the heavens as in their prime,  
And then the earth (though old) still clad in green,  
The stones and trees, insensible of time,  
Nor age nor wrinkle on their front are seen;  
If winter come and greeness then do fade,  
A Spring returns, and they more youthful made▪  
But Man grows old, lies down, remains where once he's laid.   

20  
By birth more noble than those creatures all,  
Yet seems by nature and by custom cursed,  
No sooner born, but grief and care makes fall  
That state obliterate he had at first▪  
Nor youth, nor strength, nor wisdom spring again  
Nor habitations long their names retain  
But in oblivion to the final day remain.   

20  
Shall I then praise the heavens the trees, the earth  
Because their beauty and their strength last longer  
Shall I wish there, or never to had birth,  
Because they're bigger, & their bodies stronger?  
Nay, they shall darken, perish, fade and die,  
And when unmade, so ever shall they lie,  
But man was made for endless immortality.   

21  
Under the cooling shadow of a stately Elm  
Close sat I by a goodly River's side,  
Where gliding streams the Rocks did overwhelm;  
A lonely place, with pleasures dignified.  
I once that loved the shady woods so well,  
Now thought the rivers did the trees excel.  
And if the sun would ever shine, there would I dwell▪   

22  
While on the stealing stream I ●ixt mine eye.  
Which to the longed for Ocean held its course,  
I marked, nor crooks, nor rubs that there did lie  
Can hinder aught, but still augment its force▪  
O happy Flood, quoth I, that holds thy race  
Till thou arrive at thy beloved place,  
Nor is it rocks or shoals that can obstruct thy pace   

23  
Nor is't enough, that thou alone may'st slide,  
But hundred brooks in thy clear waves do meet,  
So hand in hand along with thee they glide  
To Thetis house, where all embrace and greet:  
Thou Emblem true, of what I count the best,  
O could I lead my Rivulets to rest,  
So may we press to that vast mansion, ever blest.   

24  
Ye Fish which in this liquid Region 'bide,  
That for each season, have your habitation,  
Now salt, now fresh where you think best to glide  
To unknown coasts to give a visitation,  
In Lakes and ponds, you leave your numerous fry,  
So nature taught and yet you know not why,  
You watery folk that know not your felicity.   

25  
Look how the wantoness frisk to taste the air,  
Then to the colder bottom straight they dive,  
Eftsoon to N●ptun's glassy Hall repair  
To see what trade they great ones there do drive,  
Who forage o'er the spacious sea-green field,  
And take the trembling prey before it yield,  
Whose armour is their s●ales, their spreading sins their shield.   

26  
While musing thus with contemplation fed,  
And thousand fancies buzzing in my brain,  
The sweet-tongued Philomela perched o'er my head,  
And chanted forth a most melodious strain  
Which rapt me so with wonder and delight,  
I judged my hearing better than my sight,  
And wished me wings with her a while to take my flight.   

28  
O merry Bird (said I) that fears no snares,  
That neither toils nor hoards up in thy barn,  
Feels no sad thoughts, nor cruciating cures  
To gain more good, or shun what might thee harm  
Thy clothes ne'er wear, thy meat is every where.  
Thy bed a bough, thy drink the water clear,  
Reminds not what is past, nor what's to come dost fear   

28  
The dawning morn with songs thou dost prevent,  
Sets hundred notes unto t●● feathered crew,  
So each one tunes his pretty instrument,  
And warbling out the old beg●n 〈◊〉,  
And thus they pass their youth in summer season,  
Then follow thee into a better R●g●●n,  
where winter's never felt by that sweet airy legion   

29  
Man at the best a creature frail and vain,  
In knowledge ignorant, in strength but weak,  
Subject to sorrows, losses, sickness, pain,  
Each storm his state, his mind, his body break.  
From some of these he never finds cessation,  
But day or night, within, without, vexation,  
Troubles from foes, from friends, from dearest, nearest Relati●●   

30  
And yet this sinful creature, frail and vain,  
This lump of wretchedness, of sin and sorrow  
This weatherbeaten vessel wracked with pain,  
Joys not in hope of an eternal morrow,  
Nor all his losses, crosses and vexation,  
In weight, in frequency and long duration  
Can make him deeply groan for that divine Translation▪   

31  
The Mariner that on smooth waves doth glide,  
Sings merrily, and steers his Bark with ease,  
As if he had command of wind and tide,  
And now become great Master of the seas;  
But suddenly a storm spoils all the sport.  
And makes him long for a more quiet port.  
Which 'gainst all adverse winds may serve for ●ort.   

32  
So he that saileth in this world of pleasure,  
Feeding on sweets, that never bitten of th' sour,  
That's full of friends, of honour and of treasure,  
Fond fool, he takes this earth even for heaven's bower.  
But sad affliction comes & makes him see  
Here's neither honour, wealth, nor safety;  
Only above is found all with security.   

33  
O Time the fatal wrack of mortal things,  
That draws oblivions curtains over kings,  
Their sumptuous monuments, men know them not,  
Their names without a Record are forgot,  
Their parts, their ports, their pomp's all laid in th' dust  
Nor wit nor gold, nor buildings scape times rust,  
But he whose name is graved in the white stone  
Shall last and shine when all of these are gone.    

The Flesh and the Spirit.  
IN secret place where once I stood  
Close by the Banks of Lacrim flood  
I heard two sister's reason on  
Things that are past, and things to come;  
One flesh was called, who had her eye  
On worldly wealth and vanity;  
The other Spirit, who did rear  
Her thoughts unto a higher sphere:  
Sister, quoth Flesh, what liv'st thou on  
Nothing but Meditation?  
Doth Contemplation feed thee so  
Regardlessly to let earth go?  
Can Speculation satissy  
Notion without Reality?  
Dost dream of things beyond the Moon  
And dost thou hope to dwell there soon?  
Hast treasures there laid up in store  
That all in th' world thou countest but poor  
Art fancy sick, or turned a Sot  
To catch at shadows which are not?  
Come, come, I'll show unto thy sense,  
Industry hath its recompense.  
What canst desire, but thou mayst see  
True substance in variety?  
Dost honour like? acquire the same,  
As some to their immortal fame:  
And trophies to thy name erect  
Which wearing time shall ne'er deject.  
For riches dost thou long full fore?  
Behold enough of precious store.  
Earth hath more silver, pearls and gold,  
Then eyes can see, or hands can hold.  
Affects thou pleasure? take thy fill,  
Earth hath enough of what you will.  
Then let not go, what thou mayst find,  
For things unknown, only in mind,  
Spir. Be still thou unregenerate part,  
Disturb no more my settled heart,  
For I have vowed, (and so will do)  
Thee as a so, still to pursue  
And combat with thee will and must,  
Until I see thee laid in th' dust.  
Sisters we are, ye twins we be.  
Yet deadly feud twixt thee and me;  
For from one father are we not,  
Thou by old Adam waste begot,  
But my arise is from above  
Whence my dear father I do love.  
Thou speakest me fair but hat'st me sore,  
Thy flattering shows ●e trust no more.  
How oft thy slave, hast thou me made,  
when I believed, what thou hast said,  
And never had more cause of woe  
Then when I did what thou badst do.  
I'll stop mine ears at these thy charms,  
And count them for my deadly harms,  
Thy sinful pleasures I do hate,  
Thy riches are to me no bait,  
Thine honours do, nor will I love;  
For my ambition lies above.  
My greatest honour it shall be  
When I am victor over thee,  
And triumph shall, with laurel head,  
When thou my Captive shalt be led,  
How I do live, thou needest not scoff,  
For I have meat thou knowst not off;  
The hidden Manna I do eat,  
The word of life it is my meat.  
My thoughts do yield me more content  
Than can thy hours in pleasure spent.  
Nor are they shadows which I catch,  
Nor fancies vain at which I snatch,  
But reach at things that are so high,  
Beyond thy dull Capacity;  
Eternal substance I do see,  
With which enriched I would be:  
Mine Eye doth pierce the heavens, and see  
What is luvisible to thee.  
My garments are not silk nor gold,  
Nor such like trash which Earth doth hold,  
But Royal Robes I shall have on,  
More glorious than the glistering Sun;  
My Crown not Diamonds, Pearls, and gold,  
But such as Angels heads enfold.  
The City where I hope to dwell,  
There's none on Earth can parallel;  
The stately Walls both high and strong,  
Are made of precious Jasper stone;  
The Gates of Pearl, both rich and clear,  
And Angels are for Porters there;  
The Streets thereof transparent gold,  
Such as no Eye did ere behold,  
A Crystal River there doth run,  
Which doth proceed from the Lamb's Throne:  
Of Life, there are the waters sure,  
Which shall remain for ever pure,  
Nor Sun, nor Moon, they have no need,  
For glory doth from God proceed:  
No Candle there, nor yet Torch light,  
For there shall be no darksome night.  
From sickness and infirmity,  
For evermore they shall be free,  
Nor withering age shall e'er come there,  
But beauty shall be bright and clear;  
This City pure is not for thee,  
For things unclean there shall not be:  
If I of Heaven may have my fill,  
Take thou the world, and all that will.   

The Vanity of all worldly things.  
AS he said vanity, so vain say I,  
Oh! vanity, O vain all under Sky;  
Where is the man can say, lo I have found  
On brittle Earth a Consolation sound?  
What is't in honour to be set on high?  
No, they like Beasts and Sons of men shall d●●  
And whilst they live, how oft doth turn their 〈◊〉  
He's now a captive, that was King of ●ate  
What is't in wealth, great Treas●res to obtain?  
No that's but labour, anxious care and pain,  
He heaps up riches, and he heaps up sorrow,  
It's his to day, but who's his ●eir to morrow?  
What then? Content in pleasures canst thou find,  
More vain than all, that's but to grasp the wind.  
The sensual senses for a time they please,  
Mean while the conscience rage, who shall appease?  
What is't in beauty? No that's but a snare,  
They're foul enough to day, that once were sai●.  
What is't in stowring youth, or manly age?  
The first is prone to vice▪ the last to rage.  
Where is it then, in wisdom, learning arts?  
Sure if on earth, it must be in those parts:  
Yet these the ●●sest man of men did find  
But vanity, vexation of mind.  
And he that knows the most, doth still bemoan  
He knows not all that here is to be known.  
What is it then, to do as Stoics tell.  
Nor laugh, nor we●p, let things go ill or well.  
Such Stote are but Stocks such teaching vain,  
While man is man, he shall have ease or pain.  
If not in honour beauty, age nor treasure  
Nor yet in learning wisdom youth nor pleasure,  
Where shall I climb, sound, seek search or find  
That Summum Bonum which may stay my mind?  
There is a path, no vultures eye hath seen,  
Where Lion fierce, nor lions whelps have been,  
Which lea●s unto that living Crystal Fount,  
Who drinks thereof, the world doth nought account  
The depth & sea have said 'tis not in me,  
With pearl and gold, it shall not valued be.  
For Saphire, Onyx, Topaz, who would change:  
It's hid from eyes of men, they count it strange.  
Death and destruction the fame hath heard,  
But where & what it is, from heaven's declared,  
It br●ngs to honour, which shall ne'er decay,  
It stores with wealth which time can't wear away.  
It yieldeth pleasures far beyond conceit,  
And truly beautifies without deceit,  
Nor strength, nor wisdom nor fresh youth shall sade  
Nor death shall see. but are immortal made.  
This pearl of price, this tree of l●●e, this spring  
Who is possessed of, shall reign a King  
Nor change of state, nor cares shall ever see,  
But wear his crown unto eternity.  
This satiates the Soul, this stays the mind,  
And all the rest, but Vanity we find.  
FINIS   

The Author to her Book.  
THou ill-formed offspring of my feeble brain,  
Who after birth didst by my side remain,  
Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true  
Who thee abroad, exposed to public view,  
Ma●e thee in rags, halting to th' press to trudg,  
Where errors were not lessened (all may judge)  
At thy return my blushing was not small,  
My rambling brat (in print) should mother call,  
I cast thee by as one unfit for light,  
Thy Visage was so irksome in my sight;  
Yet being mine own, at length affection would  
Thy blemishes amend, if so I could:  
I washed thy face, but more defects I saw,  
And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw.  
I stretched thy joints to make thee even feet,  
Yet still thou runnest more hobbling than is meet;  
In better dress to trim thee was my mind,  
But nought save homespun Cloth, i'th' house I find  
In this array, 'mongst Vulgars' mayst thou roam  
In Critics hands, beware thou dost not come;  
And take thy way where yet thou art not known,  
If for thy Father asked, say, thou hadst none:  
And for thy Mother she alas is poor,  
Which caused her thus to send thee out of door.   

Several other Poems made by the Author upon Divers Occasions, were found among her Papers after her Death, which she never ●ednt should come to public view, amongst which, these following (at the desire of s●me friends that knew her well) are 〈◊〉 inserted  

Upon a Fit of Sickness, Anno. 1632. A●tat●s suae, 10.  
TWice ten years old, not sully told  
Since nature gave me breath,  
My race is run, my thread is spun,  
lo here is fatal Death.  
All men must die, and so must I  
this cannot be revoked  
For Adam's sake, this word God spoke  
when he so high provoked.  
Yet live I shall, this life's but small,  
in place of highest bliss,  
Where I shall have all I can crave,  
no life is like to this.  
For what's this life, but care and strife?  
since first we came from womb,  
Our strength doth waste, our time doth haste,  
and then we go to th' Tomb.  
O Bubble blast, how long canst last?  
that always art a breaking,  
No sooner blown, bu● dead and gone,  
even as a word that's speaking.  
O whilst I live this grace me give,  
I doing good may be.  
Then deaths arrest I shall count best,  
because it's thy decree;  
Bestow much cost there's nothing lost,  
to make Salvation sure,  
O great's the gain, though got with pain▪  
comes by profession pure.  
The race is run, the field is won,  
the victory's mine I see,  
For ever know, thou envious foe,  
the soil belongs to thee.   

Upon some distemper of body  
In anguish of my heart replete with woes,  
And wasting pains, which best my body knows▪  
In tossing slumbers on my wakeful bed,  
Bedrencht with tears that slowed from mournful head  
Till nature had exhausted all her store,  
Then eyes lay dry, disabled to weep more;  
And looking up unto his Throne on high,  
Who sendeth help to those in misery,  
He chased away those clouds, and let me see  
My Anchor cast i'th' vale with safety.  
He eased my Soul of woe, my flesh of pain,  
And brought me to the shore from troubled Main;  
All things within this fading world hath end,  
Adversity doth still our joys a●●end;  
No ties so strong no friends so dear and sweet,  
But with deaths parting blow is sure to meet.  
The sentence past is most irrovocable,  
A common thing, yet oh inevitable,  
How soon, my Dear death may my steps attend.  
How sooned may be thy L●t to ●ose thy friend,  
We both are ignorant, yet love bi●s me  
These farewell lines to recommend to thee,  
That when that knot ●s unty●e that made us one,  
I may seem thine, who in effect am none.  
And ill see not half my day that's due,  
What ●●ture would, God grant to yours and you:  
The many faults that well you know I have,  
Let be in●err'd in my oblivions grave,  
Many worth or virtue were in me,  
Let that live freshly in thy memory  
And when thou feelest no grief, as I no harms,  
Yet love thy dead, who long lay in thine arms:  
And when thy loss shall be repaid with ga●ns  
Look to my little babes my dear remains▪  
And if thou love thyself, or lovedst me  
These O protect from step Dames injury.  
And if chance to thine eyes shall bring this verse,  
With some sad sighs honour my absent Hearse;  
And kiss this paper for thy love's dea● sake,  
Who with salt tears this last Farewell did take  
A. B.   

To my Dear and loving Husband.  
IF ever two were one, then surely we.  
If ever man were loved by wife, then thee,  
If ever wife was happy in a man,  
Compare with me ye women if you can.  
I prise thy love more than whole Mines of gold,  
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.  
My love is such that Rivers cannot quench,  
Nor ought but love from thee, give recompense,  
Thy love is such I can no way repay,  
The heavens reward thee manifold I pray.  
Then while we live, in love lets so persever,  
That when we live no more, we may live ever.   

A Letter to her Husband, absent upon Public employment.  
My head, my heart, mine Eyes, my life, nay more,  
My joy, my Magazine of earthly store,  
If two be one, as surely thou and I,  
How stayest thou there, whilst I at Ipswich lie?  
So many steps, head from the heart to sever  
If but a neck, soon should we be together:  
I like the earth this season, mourn in black,  
My Sun is gone so far in's Zodiac,  
Whom whilst I'joyed, nor storms, nor frosts I felt,  
His warmth such frigid colds did cause to melt.  
My chilled limbs now numbed lie forlor●;  
Return, return sweet Sol from Capricorn,  
In this dead time, alas, what can I more  
Than view those fruits which through thy heat I bore?  
Which sweet contentment yield me for a space,  
True living Pictures of their Father's face.  
O strange effect now thou art Southward gone,  
I weary grow, the tedious d●y so long;  
But when thou Northward to me shalt return,  
I wish my Sun may never set, but burn  
Within the Cancer of my glowing breast,  
The welcome house of him my dearest guest.  
Where ever, ever stay, and go not thence,  
Till nature's sad decree shall call thee hence;  
Flesh of thy flesh, bone of thy bone,  
I here, thou there, yet both but one.  
A. B.   

Another.  
Phoebus make haste, the day's too long be gone,  
The silent night's the fittest time for moan;  
But stay this once, unto my suit give ear,  
And tell my griefs in either Hemisphere:  
(And if the whirling of thy wheels don't drowned)  
The woeful accents of my doleful sound,  
If in thy swift Carrier thou canst make stay,  
I crave this boon, this Errand by the way.  
Commend me to the man more loved than life,  
Show him the sorrows of his widowed wife;  
My dumpish thoughts, my groans, my branish tears  
My sobs, my longing hopes, my doubting fears,  
And if he love, how can he there abide?  
My Interest's more than all the world beside.  
He that can tell the stars or Ocean sand,  
Or all the grass that in the Meads do stand,  
The leaves in th' woods, the hail or drops of rain,  
Or in a cornfield number every grain.  
Or every mote that in the sunshine hops,  
May count my sighs, and number all my drops:  
Tell him, the countless steps that thou dost trace,  
That once a day, thy Spouse thou mayst embrace;  
And when thou canst not treat by loving mouth,  
Thy rays afar, salute her from the south.  
But for one month I see no day (poor soul)  
Like those far situate under the pole,  
Which day by day long wait for thy arise,  
O how they joy when thou dost light the skies.  
O Phoebus, hadst thou but thus long from thine  
Restrained the beams of thy beloved shine,  
At thy return, if so thou couldst or durst  
Behold a Chaos blacker than the first.  
Tell him here's worse than a confused matter,  
His little world's a fathom under water,  
Nought but the servor of his ardent beams  
Hath power to dry the torrent of these streams.  
Tell him I would say more, but cannot well,  
Oppressed minds, abruptest tales do tell.  
Now post with double speed, mark what I say,  
By all our loves conjure him not to stay.   

Another.  

Arriving Hind that (Hartless) warts her Deer,  
S●uds through the woods and Fern with harkening ear,  
Perplexed, in every bu●h & ●ook doth pry,  
Her dearest Deer might answer ear or eye;  
So doth my anxious foul, which now doth miss,  
A dearer Dear (far dearer Heart) than this.  
Still wait with doubts, & hopes, and failing eye,  
His voice to hear, or person to descry.  
Or as the pensive Dove doth all alone  
(On withered bough) most uncouthly bemoan  
The absence of her Love, and loving Mate,  
Whose loss hath made her so unfortunate:  
Even thus do I, with many a deep sad groan  
Bewail my turtle true, who now is gone,  
His presence and his safe return, still woos,  
With thousand doleful sighs & mournful Cooes.  
Or as the loving Mullet, that true Fish,  
Her fellow lost, nor joy nor life do wish,  
But lanches on that shore, there for to die,  
Where she her captive husband doth espy.  
Mine being gone, Head a joyless life,  
I have a loving ph●re, yet seem no wife:  
But worst of all, to him can't steer my course  
I here, he there, alas, both kept by force:  
Return my Dear▪ my joy, my only Love,  
Unto thy Hind, thy Mullet and thy Dove,  
Who neither joys in pasture, house nor streams,  
The substance gone, O me, these are but dreams.  
Together at one Tree, oh let us bronze,  
And like two Turtles roost within one house,  
And like the Mullets in one River glide,  
Let's still remain but one, till death divide.   
Thy loving Love and Dearest Dear, At home, abroad, and every where. A. B.   

To her Father with some verses.  
MOst truly honoured, and as truly dear,  
If worth in me, or ought I do appear,  
Who can of right better demand the same?  
Then may your worthy self from whom it came.  
The principle might yield a greater sum,  
Yet handled ill, amounts but to this crumb;  
My stock's so small, I know not how to pay,  
My Bond remains in force unto this day;  
Yet for part payment take this simple mite.  
Where nothing's to be had Kings lose their right  
Such is my debt, I may not say forgive,  
But as I can, I'll pay it while I live;  
Such is my bond, none can discharge but I,  
Yet paying is not paid until I die.  
A. B.   

In reference to her Children, 23. June, 16●6.  
I Had eight birds hatched in one nest,  
Four Cocks there were, and Hens the rest,  
I nursed them up with pain and care,  
Nor cost, nor labour did I spare,  
Till at the last they felt their wing▪  
Mounted the Trees, and learned to sing;  
Chief of the Brood than took his flight,  
To Regions far and left me quite:  
My mournful chirps I after send,  
Till he return, or I do end,  
Leave not thy nest, thy Dam and Sire,  
Fly back and sing amidst this Quire.  
My second bird did take her flight,  
And with her mate flew out of sight;  
Southward they both their course did bend,  
And Seasons twain they there did spend:  
Till after blown by Southern gales,  
They Norward steered with filled sails.  
A prettier bird was not where seen,  
Along the Beach among the treen.  
I have a third of colour white,  
On whom I placed no small delight;  
Coupled with mate loving and true,  
Hath also bid her Dam adieu:  
And where Aurora first appears,  
She now hath perched, to spend her years;  
One to the Academy flew  
To chat among that learned crew.  
Ambition moves still in his breast  
That he might chant above the rest,  
Striving for more than to do well,  
That nightingales he might excel.  
My fifth, whose down is yet scarce gone  
Is 'mongst the shrubs and bushes flown,  
And as his wings increase in strength▪  
On higher boughs he'll perch at length▪  
My other three, still with me nest,  
Until they're grown, then as the rest,  
Or here or there, they'll take their flight,  
As is ordained, so shall they light.  
If birds could weep, than would my tea●  
Let others know what are my fears  
Lest this my brood some harm should catch,  
And be surprised for want of watch,  
Whilst pecking corn, and void of care  
They fall un'wares in Fowler's snare:  
Or whilst on trees they sit and sing,  
Some untoward boy at them do fling:  
Or whilst allured with bell and glass,  
The net be spread, and caught, alas.  
Or least by Lime twigs they be foiled,  
Or by some greedy hawks be spoiled.  
O would my young, ye saw my breast,  
And knew what thoughts there sadly rest,  
Great was my pain when I you bred,  
Great was my care, when I you fed,  
Long did I keep you soft and warm,  
An w●●m wings kept off all harm,  
My cares are more, and fears then ever,  
My throbs such now, as 'fore were never:  
Alas my birds, you wisdom want,  
O● perils you are ignorant,  
Oft times in grass, on trees, in flight,  
Sore accidents on you may light.  
O to your safety have an eye,  
So happy may you live and die:  
Mean while my days in times I'll spend,  
Till my weak lays with me shall end.  
In shady woods I'll sit and sing,  
And things that past, to mind I'll bring.  
Once young and pleasant, as are you,  
But former toys (no joys) adieu.  
My age I will not once lament,  
But sing, my time so near is spent.  
And from the top bough take my flight,  
Into a country beyond sight,  
Where old ones, instantly grow young,  
And there with Seraphims set song:  
No seasons cold, nor storms they see;  
But spring lasts to eternity,  
When each of you shall in your nest  
Among your young ones take your rest,  
In chirping language, oft them tell,  
You had a Dam that loved you well,  
That did what could be done for young,  
And nursed you up till you were strong,  
And before she once would let you fly,  
She showed you joy and misery;  
Taught what was good, and what was ill,  
What would save life, and what would kill?  
Thus gone, amongst you I may live,  
And dead, yet speak, and counsel give:  
Farewell my birds, farewel adieu,  
I happy am, if well with you.  
A. B.   

In memory of my dear grandchild Elizabeth Bradstreet, who deceased August, 1605. being a year and half old.  

FArewel dear babe, my hearts too much content,  
Farewell sweet babe, the pleasure of mine eye,  
Farewell fair flower that for a space was lent,  
Then ta'en away unto Eternity.  
Blessed babe why should I once bewail thy fate,  
Or sigh the days so soon were terminate;  
Sith thou art settled in an Everlasting state.   

2.  
By nature Trees do rot when they are grown.  
And Plumbs and Apples throughly ripe do fall,  
And Corn and grass are in their season mown,  
And time brings down what is both strong and tall.  
But plants new set to be eradicate.  
And buds new blown, to have so short a date,  
Is by his hand alone that guides nature and fate.    

In memory of my dear grand child Anne Bradstreet. Who deceased June 20. 1669. being three years and seven Months old.  
WIth troubled heart & trembling hand I writ,  
The Heavens have changed to sorrow my delight.  
How oft with disappointment have I met,  
When I on fading things my hopes have set?  
Experience might 'fore this have made me wise,  
To value things according to their price:  
Was ever stable joy yet found below?  
Or perfect bliss without mixture of woe.  
I knew she was but as a withering flour,  
That's here to day perhaps gone in an hour;  
Like as a bubble, or the brittle glass,  
Or like a shadow turning as it was.  
More fool than I to look on that was lent,  
As if mine own, when thus impermanent.  
Farewell dear child, thou ne●re shall come to me,  
But yet a while, and I shall go to thee,  
Mean time my throbbing heart's cheered up with this  
Thou with thy Saviour art in endless bliss.   

On my dear Grandchild Simon Bradstreet, Who died on 16. Novemb. 1669. being but a month, and one day old.  
No sooner come, but gone, and fallen asleep,  
Acquaintance short, yet parting caused us weep,  
Three flours, two scarcely blown, the last i'th' bud,  
Cropped by th' Almighty's hand; yet is he good,  
With dreadful awe before him let's be mute,  
Such was his will, but why, let's not dispute,  
With humble hearts and mouths put in the dust,  
Let's say he's merciful as well as just.  
He will return, and make up all our losses,  
And smile again, after our bitter crosses.  
Go pretty babe go rest with Sisters twain  
Among the blessed in endless joys remain.  
A. B.   

To the memory of my dear Daughter in Law, Mrs. Mercy Bradstreet, who deceased Sept. 6. 1669. in the 28. year of her Age.  
And live I still to see Relations gone,  
And yet survive to sound this wailing tone▪  
Ah, woe is me, to write thy Funeral Song,  
Who might in reason yet have lived long,  
I saw the branches lopped the Tree now fall,  
I stood so nigh, it crushed me down withal;  
My bruised heart lies sobbing at the Root,  
That thou dear Son hath lost both Tree and fruit:  
Thou then on Seas failing to foreign Coast;  
Was ignorant what riches thou hadst lost.  
But ah too soon those heavy tidings fly,  
To strike thee with amazing misery;  
Oh how I sympathize with thy sad heart,  
And in thy griefs still bear a second part:  
I lost a daughter dear, but thou a wife,  
Who loved thee more (it seemed) than her own life.  
Thou being gone, she longer could not be,  
Because her Soul she'd sent along with thee.  
One week she only passed in pain and woe,  
And then her sorrows all at once did go;  
A Babe she left before, she soared above,  
The fifth and last pledge of her dying love,  
ere nature would, it hither did arrive,  
No wonder it no longer did survive.  
So with her Children four, she's now at rest,  
All ●reed from grief (I trust) among the blessed;  
She one hath left, a joy to thee and me,  
The Heavens vouchsafe she may so ever be▪  
Cheer up (dear Son) thy fainting bleeding heart,  
In him alone, that caused all this smart;  
What though thy strokes full sad & grievous be,  
He knows it is the best for thee and me.  
A. B.    

A Funeral Elegy, Upon that Pattern and Patron of Virtue, the truly pious, peerless & matchless Gentlewoman Mrs. Anne Bradstreet, right Panaretes, Mirror of Her Age, Glory of her 〈◊〉 whose Heaven-born-Soul leaving its earthly Shrine, chose its native home, and was taken to its Rest, upon 16th. Sept. 1672.  
ASk not why hearts turn Magazines of passions,  
And why that grief is clad in several fashions;  
Why She on progress goes, and doth not borrow  
The smallest respite from th'extremes of sorrow,  
Her misery is got to such an height,  
As makes the earth groan to support its weight,  
Such storms of woe, so strongly have beset her▪  
She hath no place for worse, nor hope for better;  
Her comfort is, if any for her be▪  
That none can show more cause of grief than she.  
Ask not why some in mournful black are clad;  
The Sun is set, there needs must be a shade.  
Ask not why every face a sadness shrouds;  
The setting Sun o'ercast us hath with Clouds.  
Ask not why the great glory of the Sky  
That gil●s the stars with heavenly Alchamy,  
Which all the world doth lighten with his rays,  
The Perslan God the Monarch of the days;  
Ask not the reason of his ecstasy,  
Paleness of late, in midnoon Majesty,  
Why that the palefaced Empress of the night  
Disrobed her brother of his glorious light.  
Did not the language of the stars foretell  
A mournful Sc●ne when they with tears did swell?  
Did not the glorious people of the Sky  
Seem sensible of future misery?  
Did not the lowering heavens seem to express  
The world's great lose, and their unhappiness?  
Behold how tears ●ow from the learned hill,  
How the bereft Nine do daily fill  
The bosom of the fleeting Air with groans,  
And woeful Accents, which witness their moans.  
How do the Goddesses of verse the learned choir  
Lament their rival Qui●l, which all admire?  
Can Maro's Muse but hear her lively strain,  
He would condemn his works to fire again.  
Methinks I hear the Patron of the Spring,  
The unshorn Deity abruptly sing.  
Some do for anguish weep, for anger I  
That Ignorance should live, and Art should die.  
Black, fatal, dismal, inauspicious day,  
Unblessed for ever by Sol's precious Ray,  
Be it the first of Miseries to all;  
Or last of Life, defamed for Funeral.  
When this day yearly comes, let every one,  
Cast in their urn, the black and dismal stone.  
Succeeding years as they their circuit go,  
Leap o'er this day, as a sad time of woe.  
Farewell my Muse, since thou hast left thy shrine,  
I am unblessed in one, but blest in nine.  
Fair Thespian Ladies, light your torches all,  
Attend your glory to its Funeral,  
To court her ashes with a learned tear.  
A briny sacrifice, let not a smile appear.  
Grave Matron, whoso seeks to blazon thee,  
Needs not make use of wits false Heraldry,  
Whoso should give thee all thy worth would swell  
So high, as 'twould turn the world infidel.  
Had he great Maro's Muse, or Tully's tongue,  
Or raping numbers like the Thracian Song,  
In crowning of her merits he would be  
sumptuously poor, low in Hyperbole.  
To write is easy but to write on thee,  
Truth would be thought to forfeit modesty.  
He'll seem a Poet that shall speak but true;  
Hyperboles in others, are thy due.  
Like a most servile flatterer he will show  
Though he writ truth, and make the subject, You.  
Virtue ne'er dies, time will a Poet ●aise  
Born under better Stars, shall sing thy praise.  
Praise her who list, yet he shall, be a debtor  
For Art ne'er feign'd, nor Nature framed a better.  
Her virtues were so great, that they do raise  
A work to trouble fame, astonish praise.  
When as her Name doth but salute the ear,  
Men think that they perfections abstract hear.  
Her breast was a brave Palace, a Broad-street,  
Where all heroic ample thoughts did meet,  
Where nature such a Tenement had ta'en,  
That others souls, to hers, dwelled in a lane.  
Beneath her feet, pale envy bites her chain,  
And poison Malice whetts her sting in vain.  
Let every Laurel, every myrtle bough  
Be stripped for leaves t'adorn and load ●er brow.  
Victorious wreathes, which 'cause they never fade  
Wise elder times for Kings and Poets made.  
Let not her happy memory ere lack  
Its worth in Fame's eternal Almanac,  
Which none shall read, but strait their loss deplore,  
And blame their Fates they were not born before.  
Do not old men rejoice their ●ates did last,  
And infants too, that theirs did make such haste,  
In such a welcome time to bring them forth,  
That they might be a witness to her worth.  
Who undertakes this subject to commend  
Shall nothing find to hard as how to end.  
Finis & non.  
John Norton.  
Omnia Romanae sileant Miracula Gentis.